


Sabrina Stratford and the Secrets of Hogwarts (Book Two)

by BreeCheese18



Series: The Fifth One [2]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/F, F/M, Female Marauders (Harry Potter), First War with Voldemort, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 37
Words: 93,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23634589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreeCheese18/pseuds/BreeCheese18
Summary: Sabrina has made it through her first year at Hogwarts. But it's never a dull moment in the wizarding world, and her second year promises to be filled with just as much adventure as the first. Join Sabrina, James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Lily as they learn about loss and growing up in a world where Voldemort's threat lingers...
Relationships: Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape, Remus Lupin/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter & Original Character(s)
Series: The Fifth One [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641727
Comments: 65
Kudos: 14





	1. 1st and 8th July, 1972

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovely readers, I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!! Thank you all for letting me take a much-needed holiday for a week and a half. I hope you all enjoy the second book as much as the first! Anyway, enjoy the first chapter!

1st July, 1972

It’s only been a week of summer and I’m ready to go back to Hogwarts. Being home was far less exciting that I’d built up in my head when we’d been on the train back to London. I’d forgotten how lonely my summers usually were, as I hadn’t had more than a few friends at a time. Before, I pictured how cool it would be showing my parents all the spells I’d learned, and pulling a few pranks that I’d done all through term with my friends at Hogwarts.

That dream had come crashing down, nearly immediately, when I’d received the notice banning the use of magic at home until I turned 17. So the only magic I really had contact with on a consistent basis was the adventures that Archie went on when he delivered my letters from me to my friends.

In one week, I had written to Remus no less than three times, read the whole of my textbooks front to back, and braided friendship bracelets for each of my five friends.

Lily seemed to be having a lonely time as well. She wrote to me about how Petunia, her twin sister, seemed to be obsessively jealous of her magical abilities. It had gotten to the point where she had demanded their rooms be separated, and had ceased talking to her altogether.

Lily was even depressed about Severus being absent. The two had made plans to meet nearly every day, but Severus was never there. Apparently she had taken her bicycle all the way down to Spinner’s End, the poor area where Snape lived, but the windows of his house were dark and silent. 

8th July, 1972

I sat in the grass, staring at the reflection of the clouds in the still pond water. Lily was next to me, her chin resting on her knee. The clouds reminded me of the mirror and the adventures I’d had with my friends back at school. It made me miss Hogwarts even more. 

Lily decided to teach me how to braid my hair while we waited. “Are you sure Severus won’t mind my being here?” I asked nervously.

Lily shrugged, “Assuming he even shows up,” she sighed.

I went down to one of the meadows to pick some flowers, and by the time I got back, I saw that Severus had shown up, to my surprise, sitting down in the grass beside Lily. His hair was even longer and greasier than I remembered. He had his wand strung through the belt loop of his dirty, too-small-at-the-ankle jeans.

They seemed to be having a pleasant conversation, and I knew my presence would disturb that. Sure enough, Snape gave me a sneer. “What’s she doing here?”

“Well she happens to be one of my friends, Sev. Don’t you know how boring this summer’s been? I haven’t got any friends ‘round here, ‘cept you, and you’ve been off...wherever, and I invited Sabrina to stay a week before term ended.”

“I said I’m sorry about that,” Severus mumbled.

“I didn't say it’s your fault,” Lily said.

I held my hands up in surrender. “Don’t worry, Severus, I come in peace. We have a friend in common, let’s just call a truce.”

He eyed me suspiciously, but relented. I sat down on the other side of Lily as Severus reached down and grabbed a leaf. He spun his fingers ‘round it, blew upon it, and it became a butterfly. It flew over and landed on Lily’s knee, and she stared at it. “You shouldn’t be doing magic outside of school,” she scolded him gently. She reached out her hand and the little leaf-butterfly stepped onto her fingertip. We studied it a moment before...poof...the charm wore off and it was just a leaf again.

It made me think vaguely of Cinderella. Poof, no longer a princess.

Severus shrugged, “I can do magic whenever I like. The Ministry of Magic can’t stop me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “They can, too.”

Severus looked like he wanted to retort back, but Lily held up a hand to stop him. She tried to change the subject, “So how is your mum? Are you lot having a nice summer? And where did your father go?”

“Who knows,” Severus shrugged, “Don’t really care, either. He’s gone that’s what matters, and mum’s doing a lot better for it. She’s getting on better with her family now he’s out of the picture, and I’m doing so well in school and everything.” He smiled. “Summer’s been alright. Malfoy Manor’s better than being in that old stink hole on Spinner’s End, let me tell you. Mum says she’s going to scourge it clean, but it still smells something rotten. Doubt she’ll even bother with as well as she’s getting on with her family. We can just stay with them.”

Lily looked down at her lap, “So you aren’t staying.”

“No, of course not. We came back to get some of mum’s things that she needed.” 

I looked Lily over, she seemed visibly upset. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Lily answered.

“You miss your friends,” Snape said.

“Of course I do, Sabrina’s the only friend I’ve had as company all summer!” Lily snapped. 

Severus was biting his lip, “So, you consider them your friends now, too, I see.”

Lily shrugged. “I miss you, that’s all, and I never get to see you at school because you’re so afraid of what all the Slytherins are going to think and we finally are out for the summer and you’re not around...it’s not fair.” she looked at him, frowning.

“I can’t help that,” Severus said. “I have important things I’ve got to do. I don’t have the time to just be sitting around a pond with you every day, like I used to.” he stood up, “I’m the man of the house now, Lily, and I’ve got my mum to take care of and responsibilities and other friends.”

“Oh, that’s rich. You’ve got other friends, but you’re angry at me for having other friends.” Lily stood up, too. She was slightly taller than both Severus and I now, having hit a growth spurt.

“I’m not angry at you for having friends, I’m angry at who they are. They’re awful. Why would you want to be friends with gits like Sirius Black and James Potter?” Severus demanded, “You’ve seen how they treat other people.”

I stood up, furious. “They don’t treat everyone like that!” I snapped.

“They treat me like that!” Severus said, “And you join in!”

“Well look at Lucius Malfoy, for instance!” I said, furiously, “If you want to judge a person for who their friends are, let’s start with you! To those Slytherin chums of yours, Lily and I are simply...Mudbloods or whatever it is they call us!”

Severus’ face grew quite hot. He seemed taken aback by the word. He seemed like he didn’t know what to say. 

Lily pursed her lips and said, “I’m going home. It’s getting dark out. I don’t suppose I’ll see you again soon? I hope you have a good summer and...and make new friends.” She choked on the last words and hurried away across the grass before either of us could stop her.

I sighed, “Nice job, mate.” and ran away to go comfort Lily.


	2. 5th August, 1972

The second year book list was delivered today. My parents and I went to Diagon Alley to collect the books from Flourish and Blotts. We got an ice cream from Florean Fortescue’s shop and went by the Owl Emporium to see about getting treats for Archie. I restocked my potions kit and purchased a new box of parchment and some quills. I was delighted to find they had a colour-changing ink that smoothly transitioned from one colour to the next as you wrote, and a quill made from a beautiful ostrich feather from South Africa.

We were in Flourish and Blotts, browsing the store, when I heard my name called. I turned ‘round to find James Potter and a man who looked remarkably like him - his father, I guessed, - coming toward us from across the shop.

“Hey, Stratford,” he said, “Getting all your books, are you?”

I nodded, “Yeah. You’ve got yours, I see.”

James nodded, “And this, too.” He held up a book titled Quidditch Through the Ages with a grin, “It has a special section about different really cool plays I’m going to use when I get on the team.”

“If you get on the team,” I said with a smirk.

“Oh, I will,” James replied.

Mr. Potter put his hands on James’ shoulders, “Been going on about the Gryffindor Quidditch team as long as I can remember, he has…” he looked up at my mum and dad. “You must be Sabrina’s parents,” he said, extending a hand, “I’m Fleamont Potter.”

My dad shook Mr. Potter’s hand, “Robert Stratford,” he said, “And this is my wife, Jennifer.” He smiled, quite eager to meet any witch or wizard.

“You’re Muggles, aren’t you?” Mr. Potter asked. I blinked in surprise; it was suddenly quite obvious where James had gotten his bluntness.

“I s’pose so,” Dad replied.

“Brilliant,” Mr. Potter said with a smile, “Big supporter of you lot.”

“Dad, shut up,” James hissed. He rolled his eyes to me. “Anyway, are you trying out for the team? You’re a pretty good flier.” He asked as both our parents started talking over our heads. I shrugged. “Sirius said you told him he could use your broom.” he added.

I nodded, “Sirius wrote to me going on and on about the awful brooms they have at school, and I figured he could use mine.”

“Somebody might as well use it, right?” James said with a grin, “So it’s not just collecting dust.”

I heard the slightest bit of a judgemental note to his tone. “I can’t very well fly it at home, I live in the middle of London,” I said, “Muggles would see me.”

James nodded, “Right, right. I just meant since you aren’t trying out.”

I thought for a moment, “I mean, I could…”

“But you’ve never played,” James reminded me.

“I could learn,” I shrugged.

James giggled, “Yeah, but you’re a girl, I’m sure you hate sports and getting dirty in the mud and everything.” He chuckled, “You might tear your robes, Sarbina, then what?”

“I’m rather good at sports, actually,” I replied, sticking my tongue out.

A smile spread across James’ face, “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“Well, you should,” I replied.

“Then maybe you should try out, then, if you’re so good at it,” he challenged.

“Maybe I will,” I said, smirking. “So how’re the others? I’ve heard from Sirius, but not Peter or Remus,” I added.

James replied, “Well Peter’s likely alright, if he hasn’t eaten his way into a coma by now but...well, Remus isn’t doing too swell.” James’ happy expression melted into one of concern.

I looked up, “What? Why? What’s the matter? He hasn’t written to me, has he written to you?”

James shook his head, “No, he hasn’t, but I read about it in The Daily Prophet. His mum died.”

I stared at James, startled. I felt my stomach twist sickly tight. “Was she ill? Remus never mentioned anything about it.”

James said, “She was killed. By...by You-Know-Who.”

My eyes widened. Then, I said, panicked, “It wasn’t because of us….because of that night...in the forest?”

James shook his head, “His dad works at the Ministry,” he explained, “Worked on a pro-Muggle committee and that made Pureblood supporters quite angry and You-Know-Who’s the biggest purist there is. Remus’ mum was a Muggle.” He lowered his voice, “He’s been attacking a lot of the Muggle activists.”

I darted my eyes to my parents and then back to James, nervous.

“Did you get the Ministry pamphlet about the security measures?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I didn’t get anything at all.”

James turned to his father, tugging his shirt sleeve for attention, breaking up a conversation he was having with my parents about the Impervius Charm he’d put on his spectacles, offering to apply one to my dad’s as well. “Dad, do you have that pamphlet the Ministry sent out about the security measures?”

Mr. Potter looked surprised, “Did you lot not get a pamphlet by owl?” he asked, reaching into his coat pocket and rooting about for it. “I have it here somewhere…” he pulled out several books and a fishing rod. “Where on earth did it go…” he muttered, reaching right in, his whole arm disappearing into his pocket.

My parents’ eyes were wide.

“Extendable Charm,” said James by way of explanation. “They’re bigger on the inside, you see.” he waved his arms out to demonstrate.

“Here it is,” Mr. Potter said, withdrawing his arm from his robes and holding out a slightly crumpled copy of a little pamphlet, titled Keeping Safe During the Anti-Muggle Attacks. It featured a picture of a wizarding family in a bubble that floated all about the cover, bumping off the edges. He looked down at me, and then at my parents, “Why, you probably don’t even have a Shield Charm up ‘round your home, do you?” he exclaimed nervously, “I mean, you haven’t got a proper wizard of age in the house, have you? Blimey. I’d be happy to come along to get one in place for you.”

My dad took the pamphlet and started looking through it. “Has there been some sort of emergency?” he asked.

Mr. Potter began to explain Voldemort’s terrorism to them and exactly what the benefits of a Shield Charm around our building would do for us, and James turned to me. “You think Remus is okay?”

I felt quite upset. “I...dunno. Have you heard from him?”

James looked at his feet. “I… I’ve tried writing him. I’ve had the parchment out on my desk for a week or two. But...what do you say to somebody whose mum’s been killed? I mean…” he frowned, “I dunno what to say.”

“You say you’re there for him if he wants to talk...that you’re thinking of him and hoping he’s doing alright! You say you care!” I exclaimed. “Bloody hell, James, you don’t just ignore it!”

“Well I don’t know!” James said, “I don’t know how to say that stuff without sounding like a loser.”

I facepalmed, “You won’t sound like a loser, mate, you’ll sound like a caring person!” I replied, before sighing. “I’ll write him as soon as I get home.”

***

Later that night, I sighed as I rolled up the parchment and sealed the envelope labelled with the Lupin household’s address. It was a lot harder than I had thought, putting the words onto the parchment, but I’d finally done it. I sat in the window of my room, having given Archie some of the owl treats I’d bought, and watched the little brown speck disappear into the sky over the distance, carrying my letter to Remus...along with the friendship bracelet I’d weaved for him at the start of summer. I hoped the kind gesture would cheer him up.

I turned around and saw that my closet door was open: I'd left it like that after hanging up my new robes from Madam Malkin’s shop. In the back was my broom, the brass plate gleaming. I walked over and pulled it out. I looked it over, my fingers sliding over the wood handle and inspecting the twigs at the base. My mind went back to a really good tennis play I’d done when I was little: at how giddy my friends had been, crowding around me and lifting me up on their shoulders…

I grit my teeth, determination suddenly filling me up.


	3. 1st September, 1972

September the first had come about once more, and I was just as excited as ever to get back on the Hogwarts Express. Unfortunately, my grandmother had fallen ill just a few days before term started, so my parents planned on taking the train up to Cheshire where she lived a few hours before I had to be at Platform 9 ¾. So I was to bring all of my trunks and things (including one very annoyed-to-be-in-a-cage Archie) to the scarlet train by myself.

I spent a few quid of pocket money on a warm, buttery croissant while I waited til ten o’clock came about. I figured I’d arrive about an hour early, so I could make sure to reserve the compartment the boys and I agreed upon a few months ago.

Fortunately, the compartment was empty, as I had expected. Once I got everything settled, I hopped off the train and strolled up and down the platform, waiting for any of my friends to show up.

Sirius was the first. I saw him huffing indignantly as he struggled with his heavy trunk, with no luck at heaving it up. Fortunately, I gave him a boost, and the trunk moved quite easily with our combined efforts.

“Heya, Black,” I greeted him with a grin. I looked Sirius over with surprise, “Bimey, mate, what are you wearing?”

Sirius had ripped jeans, an old t-shirt of The Who (which I seriously doubted his knowledge of), and a leather jacket which seemed much too big on him. “Isn’t it wonderful, Muggle fashion? Apparently it’s called punk rock. It’s very rebellious.”

I giggled. “You look like you fell down and skinned yourself,” I said, pointing at one particularly large hole by Sirius’ knee.

“No, no, they’re cut that way on purpose,” Sirius explained, “It’s cool.”

“If you say so…” I replied, shrugging. “It’s not like all Muggles dress like that.”

Suddenly, we heard our names, and saw James rushing over as fast as he could and giving us bear hugs. “HiguysImissedyouhowwereyoursummerswoahyoubothgotabittaller…” James spat out as quickly as he could, while Sirius and I wished for the sweet luxury of breathing.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter came up to join us, with James’ trolley. “Ah, Sabrina, good to see you!” Mr. Potter said, giving me a friendly pat on the back. I beamed up at him.

“Is this another one of your friends, James?” Mrs. Potter asked, smiling.

“Mum, this is Sirius Black,” James said.

“Hello Sirius,” she replied, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Loads!” Added Mr. Potter, smiling. “Good to meet you.” he held out a hand and shook Sirius’.

Sirius smiled, “Nice to meet you, too, sir...ma’am.”

As the five of us walked to the entrance of the train, Mrs. Potter tried desperately to flatten down James’ hair, her hands smeared with potion. “Stop it, mother,” James complained, batting her away. “You’ve put enough of that in my hair.”

“What is that?” I asked, the particularly strong smell of it hitting my nostrils and making me wince.

“That, my dear,” said Mr. Potter, turning to look over at me, “Is Sleekeazy Potion.”

“Oh bloody hell,” whispered James, eyes rolled heavenward. I got the impression James had heard this a time or two.

“Sleekeazy Potion is a very special mixture I’ve invented at work in the Magically Useful or Helpful Patents Office at the Ministry,” Mr. Potter said, “It’s used to sleeken unruly hair - if used correctly and regularly,” he added as James ran his fingers through his hair, purposely messing it up again. “It’s based on this brilliant Muggle concoction called petroleum jelly. Do you know what that is, Sirius?”

Sirius, who had now seemed vaguely interested in our conversation, shook his head. “No sir.”

“Fleamont Charlus Woodrow Potter,” snapped Mrs. Potter, full-naming her husband as she might have her son, “For Heaven’s sake the children don’t need a chemistry lesson. Let’s go before they miss the train!”

When we helped James load his trunk and he had said his arduous goodbye to his mum and dad, we boarded the train. “Sorry about that, my dad really gets into his work,” said James as we walked down the train toward the compartment I’d put my things in. “Once you get him going on about that potion there’s no stopping him. I hate the way it smells and I look like a prat with that mess in my hair.”

“I think it sounds like a pretty cool idea,” I answered.

James shrugged. “Don’t tell him that or else he’ll never let you hear the end of it. Ever.”

We pushed open the doors to the compartment and there, huddled up in the corner and staring out the window, was Remus Lupin.

James, Sirius and I exchanged glances, our joyful attitudes quickly melting away. We walked in, and I sat next to Remus, while the other two sat on the opposite bench. Remus continued to stare out the window without so much as glancing our way. I looked out and spotted Peter across the platform, getting his cheek pinched by his mum and a platter of biscuits shoved in his hands. Remus was gnawing his lower lip anxiously, I noticed, and he was quite pale to boot. I looked at Sirius and James, who looked back and shrugged, neither boy sure what to say.

Remus looked over at us as Peter disengaged from his mother on the platform and ran onto the train and out of our sight. He looked over at Sirius first. “What in the hell are you wearing?” he asked, his voice rather thick.

“It’s called punk rock,” I said before Sirius could answer, “And in his mind it’s ‘cool’.” I pointed at Sirius’ knee. “That’s on purpose. He didn’t fall down, so you know.”

Remus looked a little bewildered.

The door opened and Peter came in with his biscuits, his cheeks all red from the pinching and running. He’d gained a considerable amount of weight since I’d last seen him, his face fuller and his belly rounder. I felt reminded of a pot-bellied pig. All he was missing was the curly tail.

“Hey guys,” he greeted us eagerly. “I’ve brought biscuits. My mum baked them. She makes the best biscuits.” he held up the plate,” Anyone want some?” He’d already pushed open the cellophane wrapping and taken a handful of them out, stuffing one into his mouth as he asked so that crumbs flew everywhere by the time he got to the last words of the sentence. 

James glared at him pointedly and nodded at Sirius and I. It didn’t seem that chatting about people’s mums baking things was a very good topic.

Peter looked at Remus, then back to James, then to Remus and held the plate over to Remus. “You want one, Remus?” he asked.

James smacked his hand to his forehead and I inched closer to Remus.

Remus shook his head, “Thanks Peter, but no,” he replied politely.

“Alright,” Peter said. He looked at James with a questioning glare, then settled down next to me, stuffing another biscuit in his great porky mouth and balancing the platter on his knee.

I looked back to my left. Remus looked positively awful. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair a mess. I had a vague thought in the back of my mind about how he could benefit from some of Mr. Potter’s Sleekeazy PotionTM, but I didn’t say anything about it. His hair was a bit thinner, too, and he had several hot pink spots on his forearm where he must’ve bitten himself once again. I frowned. “Are you alright, mate?” I asked. 

Remus took a deep breath, “I’m fine,” he answered. Looking ‘round, he saw James, Sirius and I looking at him with knowing eyes. Peter was too busy eating to have a similar expression, he just set about his job of chewing up biscuits like a bottomless pit.

Remus turned back to the window, noy wanting to face our expressions. He looked at a man who I guessed was his father. He was on the platform, alone, looking dolefully up at the scarlet engine that would carry away the remainder of his family.

Remus looked down at his wrist at the gold and maroon braided friendship bracelet I had sent to him, and he ran his fingers over the knots and took a deep breath. A part of me wanted to just envelop him in a hug and never let go.

Peter let out a belch.

As though it were a cue, the engine shuddered to life and the train started to move forward, the platform slipping away. “Goodbye King’s Cross,” said Sirius.

James waved his fingers up in a peace sign, sinking onto the bench laying down, his feet up on Sirius’ lap as he pulled the hood of the sweatshirt he was wearing up over his head. “Til holidays, then, London,” he added.

Peter had finished the biscuits already...yes, the whole plate...by the time the steam engine had really got itself up to speed and the Muggle houses that lined the tracks were zooming past. None of us had said much of anything, an awkward silence dominated the compartment. Peter held the empty plate in his hands while James laid awake but with his eyes closed. Sirius seemed to be staring into Remus’ soul, while I cracked open my new Charms book.

Remus suddenly stood up. “Sabrina, can you come with me for a moment?” He said, heading for the doors.

“Where’re we going?” I asked, standing up.

Remus didn’t answer, but grabbed me and we slipped out of the compartment. He closed the door behind us, glancing each way up and down the long train. We walked along, trying to find an empty compartment, but there weren’t any, so we ducked into one that was mostly empty. Inside sat one lonely Ravenclaw, a boy with pale, white-blonde hair and unsettlingly large eyes. I remembered his name was Xenophilius Lovegood. “Hi, Xeno,” I said when we stepped in.

Xeno looked nervously up at us. “Careful you don’t let all those wrackspurts in,” he muttered, “This train is loaded with them. I had to spray for them.” The room smelled thick of air freshener of some sort, and my nose hairs curled up. I didn’t know what wrackspurts were, but surely they were better than the thick, aerosol-filled air was...but Xeno looked very adamant about it.

“We won’t let any...rustpooties in,” said Remus, not catching the word Xeno had said quite right.

“Wrackspurts,” Xeno repeated pointedly.

“Them either,” said Remus. He turned to look at me. “I just...I wanted to say thank you,” he said, “For the letter and this.” Remus held his wrist up.

I turned pink, “It makes me happy to see you wearing it. I haven’t given the others theirs yet, but I felt you needed it.”

“Yeah,” said Remus, “I haven’t taken it off. I really like it a lot.”

“I’m glad,” I said, smiling.

Xeno suddenly broke in, “You’re the bloke whose mum was killed by the Death Eaters.”

Remus looked at his shoes.

“Hey, shut it, don’t be so blunt about it!” I snapped, turning to look at Xenophilius, “You need to learn how to be more sensitive in the future!” I felt like I was channeling my inner Lily, whenever she would scold James.

Xeno shrugged and pulled a copy of The Daily Prophet from his bag, holding it up so he was reading behind it, though it was upside down, avoiding my gaze.

I sighed with annoyance, then looked back to Remus. “Sorry about that,” I said.

“S’alright,” Remus answered, “I best get used to it; he’s certainly not the first and he won’t be the last, either, I’m afraid.”

I frowned. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I’m sorry. Were you awfully close?”

Remus nodded, “She was the best mum in the world,” he answered. “And really beautiful, too, like a movie star.”

“She sounds lovely,” I said.

“She was,” Remus said. “I’ve felt very alone since she...you know...and yeah I just wanted to thank you away from the rest of the group because your letter and this bracelet meant an awful lot to me. I felt less alone when… when what happens to me happens.” He said, implying when he changed during the full moon. “That’s...that’s all.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

Remus glanced again at Xeno and then pushed open the compartment door, “Later, then, Lovegood,” he said.

“Toodles,” replied Xeno, waving the tips of his fingers.

I waved and we left, headed back to our compartment. Before I could think of it or Remus could protest, I wrapped him up in a quick hug. I felt his heart beating wildly as we embraced, and after we all but skipped back to the compartment, where the others were waiting.

***

The castle was looming dark against the dark sky when I awoke, the soft glow of the Hogsmeade station lanterns lit upon my face. I sat up to find that everyone was beginning to clear out of the compartment, so I quickly collected my things and joined the boys in the bustling crowd in the hall of the train. We jostled and pushed our way out onto the platform, the engine steaming and hissing behind us.

“Firs’ years, over here! Firs’ years!” Shouted Hagrid, looming high above all the students, waving his dustbin-lid-sized hands to gather attention of the eleven-year-olds scurried towards him, apprehension on their faces.

We followed the crowd moving away from the platform - although I didn’t really know where we were going, I figured they knew better than we did. I stared up at the castle, hoping we wouldn’t be walking all the way up to the grounds ourselves (and thinking I may have preferred the little boats from last year if that were the case), when I found myself looking down at a cluster of little carriages. They stood in a long row and older students were climbing into them, though there seemed to be no horses to pull them. I wondered where the horses were, but to my amazement, once the carriages were filled, they began to roll forward of their own accord, away and on up the road toward the grounds of Hogwarts.

I was so dumbfounded that I was caught up in the sweeping push of students that I got separated from my friends and ended up unceremoniously clustered into one of the carriages, sitting opposite a Slytherin third year girl whose dark eyes sent a chill down my spine as she stared at me for a moment before turning away. I swallowed and held tight to the book bag I’d brought alone, my fingers tight ‘round the shoulder strap.

The little carriage carried us up through the dark grounds of Hogwarts, between wide black gates adorned with winged boars, and along the winding path toward the front entrance doors, which glowed, flung open wide, the warmth of the castle beckoning us inward. I couldn’t help but feel a bit of a sense of wonder as I looked up at the castle. It felt as though I was arriving home.

The carriage came to a stop before the wide staircase and the others all jostled out ahead of me, and I took my time gathering my things to carry inside. I followed the Slytherin girl up the stairs and into the Great Hall, swept along in the movement of all the arriving students. The air was abuzz with shouts and calls as friends reunited and stories of summer days gone by were exchanged. Laughter echoed off the walls and the voices seemed to rise up, so loud they were almost tangible. I looked around as I tried to find my friends at the Gryffindor table. I seemed to be the only person in the entire Hall who wasn’t speaking. 

I felt a tug behind me and James pulled me by my robes into an empty spot next to him, and I sighed in relief. Once everyone was sat down, Dumbledore stood up at his place at the faculty table and raised his arms high above his head, a silent call for decorum. Instantly, the room fell into silence. Every eye was upon Dumbledore as he stood before us, his smile wide and welcoming. “Hello and welcome back,” he said, his voice bouncing off the walls.

He smiled ‘round the tables and said, “Minerva, if you please...the first years.”

Professor McGonagall, who had been standing a bit to the side, went to a little door and opened it up, disappearing within as Dumbledore sat once more and turned to say something to a witch that I didn’t recognise, seated beside him. She smiled at whatever it was Dumbledore had said, then nodded and whispered something back. As she spoke to him, her eyes swept the length of the Slytherin table, and she paused, before she turned back to Dumbledore completely. I vaguely wondered what she was looking for.

There was a sudden commotion by the door McGonagall had gone through as the troop of first years bustled nervously into the room, nervous chatter humming among them. McGonagall hissed, “Shhh,” and they quieted as she led them to the front and centre of the Great Hall as Professor Flitwick rushed over, magicked a stool and set upon it the faded lump of dirty material that I recognised at once as the Sorting Hat.

There was a moment of anticipation and silence, the first years all glancing around the room in awe, or staring at the hat with wide-eyed fear. I chuckled to myself as I remembered how excited I was last year, rather than fearful.

A throat cleared. The brim of the Sorting Hat split open like a yawn and several of the first years stumbled backwards. One even tripped over her own feet in surprise, tipping right into Frank Longbottom, who was seated at the front corner of the Gryffindor table. He caught her easily and righted her gently, making her cheeks turn the brightest pink you’d ever seen. The room fell silent other than the scuffle of all that, however, and the hat’s voice clearly rang over the entirety of the room:

“Welcome back to Hogwarts,

I see we’ve quite the throng

Of first years to sort into houses

To which they will belong

The choice I make, you see, will shape the

Future each of you embraces

That is my job you see, wee ones,

To put you in your places

Just put me upon your heads

And we’ll see to which you’ll be bound

For that is the system

On which the school was found

Godric Gryffindor said, you see,

It’s important to have courage

While Rowena Ravenclaw  
Said the best was those with knowledge

Salazar Slytherin preferred 

That power be at the top of the list

But Helga Hufflepuff saw all as equal

And helped every wizard or witch

Perhaps we all should be a Hufflepuff,

As it’s hard work to be brave, powerful and smart,

But alas, we split you up,

Despite the warnings in my heart

For things are going mad in the world,

Terrible things happen every day

But I am just a Sorting Hat,

So nobody wants to listen to what I say

So split you up I shall,

Just as tradition calls,

For this is how it’s always been

Within these castle walls.”

Silence fell over the Great Hall once more when the hat had finished, a pause of contemplation, and then clapping broke out among the established students, most heavily among the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs. I noticed the Slytherins only clapped half-heartedly.

McGonagall stepped forward and lifted the Sorting Hat with one hand, consulting a list in her other with downturned eyes. “Andrews, Tabitha.” A tiny, mousy-looking girl wobbled her way up to the stool and sat down nervously. McGonagall dropped the hat upon her head...and so the sorting had begun.

As it took place, I looked around the Gryffindor table for familiar faces. I spotted Lily first, grinning at the end of the row the new Gryffindors were sliding into, right next to Bilius Weasley. The Head Boy badge on his chest glittered in the candlelight as he greeted each new student with a wide smile on his face.

Last year’s sorting had seemed to take much longer, I thought, despite the fact that there were far more first years this time then there had been the year before. I reckoned it was because I was caught up in the moment. “Jackson, Alabastar,” was sorted into Slytherin, and “Fortescue, Ali,” was put into Gryffindor, and before I knew it,” Yohann, Stefjan” was a Ravenclaw and the sorting had come to an end, all of the first years tucked away into their houses.

Dumbledore stood up and clapped his hands twice, calling out, “Let us fill our faces with a most delicious meal!”

The gold plates popped onto the table at once, and just like that the Great Hall was consumed with excited squeals and talking as we fell into the eating of the meal.

James was giving a prolonged look down the table as we dug in. Suddenly, his goblet burst, soaking him in pumpkin juice. Sirius and I burst into fits of laughter, and even Remus was smirking.

“Bloody hell, what did you do?” I laughed as Peter, Remus, Sirius and I handed over our napkins to James, who was absolutely dripping.

“Dunno,” James complained, “I didn’t do a thing. I was just sitting here and it… exploded!”

“You must’ve squeezed it,” said Remus logically, “Goblets don’t just shatter for no reason.”

James shook his dead, “I didn’t have my hand anywhere near it.”

Sirius grinned, “You probably did it without thinking...given where your eyes were at when it happened.” He winked.

James scowled as he took his spectacles off and wiped them with the napkins and Remus performed a Siphoning Charm that helped clear the juice off James’ robes. “Given where my eyes were, what’s that supposed to mean?” James snapped at Sirius as he replaced the spectacles to his nose.

I nodded toward Lily as Peter said, “You were staring at Evans again.”

“I wasn’t,” James protested. “I was looking up at that new witch at the faculty table. Who do you think she is?”

“Dunno,” I said. “She sure is pretty, though,” I wondered.

Remus quirked an eyebrow at me, but replied, “Probably the new Defense teacher.” He tucked his wand away, the juice entirely cleared now, “Moody’s gone, remember?”

I turned ‘round quick, “What? Where’s he gone off to then?”

“He’s an Auror,” Remus replied, “He’s got… he’s got cases to investigate.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, “All the murders of the summer would be his cases. He’s been in the paper all summer talking about the--” I was glaring at Peter meaningfully, which stopped him in his tracks. “What? What is the matter with you?” Peter interrupted himself.

Silence fell over our group as I tried to think of what to say to tell Peter without having to embarrass Remus. But before I could form the words, Remus said, “One of the cases is my mum’s.”

Peter’s eyes widened as understanding dawned on him and his fat little lips mouthed the name Hope Lupin before he turned quite red and focused solely on his food.

Sirius said, “Look, mate, we’re really sorry about that, by the way.”

Remus suddenly no longer seemed hungry and pushed his plate away.

James, determined to raise the morale among us, said “That new witch is quite pretty, you’re right, Sabrina.”

Remus looked down at the braided bracelet I had given him and started worrying it through his fingertips as the rest of us tried awkwardly to resume a conversation. 

I noticed this, and my eyes widened. “Oh, I nearly forgot! I learned how to tie bracelets over the summer, so I made these for each of you!” I fished through the pocket of my robes and pulled out the three other bracelets, handing them off to Sirius, Peter and James, respectively. “Used the mighty Gryffindor colours, of course.” I said with a smirk.

James grinned and slipped his on. “Awesome! Thanks!”

Eventually the feast ended, the food disappeared and Dumbledore stood up. “Now that we’ve all had our fill, I would like to say once again - welcome to Hogwarts. Welcome back to our returning students and welcome here for the first time to our first years. I know you’re all quite tuckered out after all of that delicious feast, so I promise that I won’t keep you long but I do have a couple of announcements to make before we go our separate ways…”

I hoped he would keep that promise: all I wanted to do now was curl up under my Gryffindor duvet and fall asleep.

“First of all, I’d like to welcome our newest member of staff, Miss Cyrilla Blythe, who will be joining us as our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this term.” The pretty blonde-haired witch at the faculty table stood up and waved daintily about as the room clapped heartily - especially the boys.

Bilius went so far as to whistle.

“Really,” snapped Lily, rolling her eyes at him, “You’re Head Boy!” 

“I’ve got blood as red as my hair, Evans,” Bilius said, clapping still.

The statement might’ve been even more impressive had Bilius said that he had blood as red as Derek Bell’s face - for Derek had turned a deep shade, rather resembling a beet, and brought his hands up to hide his face, looking away from the table.

“What’s the matter with you?” Asked Sirius, seeing the funny way Derek was acting.

Derek shook his head.

When everyone had settled down and Cyrilla Blythe had settled back into her seat, Dumbledore continued, “I reiterate and emphasise that the Forbidden Forest is, as it is titled, forbidden…” His eyes travelled over to the Gryffindor table and swept over the six of us second years. I made sure my eyes averted from his gaze. “Some of you could do with the reminder.” He cleared his throat, “Additionally, Mister Filch has continued his ban on Filibuster’s Fireworks and a wide range of other items, the list of which you can find pinned to the door of his office. Finally, I wish to announce that this year Hogwarts has been selected to play host to a couple of esteemed students from across the pond: students who have attended the American wizarding school, Ilvermorny.”

Sirius looked at James with wide eyes, “Americans? Here at Hogwarts?”

“That ought to be right interesting,” James laughed.

“What’s so funny about the Americans then?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s their accents, mate,” said James with a grin. “They sound rather funny the way they speak.”

Dumbledore held up his hands to silence the room again, as many of the students had also begun talking. “The students from Ilvermorny will be visiting later this year and will include the stars of the school’s Quidditch teams, selected specifically to form one school team. During the Quidditch season here at Hogwarts, we, too, shall be selecting an All Star team to compete against the Ilvermorny team in a sort of tournament.”

“There you are, James,” said Peter.

James was staring up at Dumbledore eagerly. I could feel the competitiveness oozing through him. He gripped the edge of the table, grinning at the thought of it as I slapped him on the back.

Dumbledore wrapped up the announcements and with a wave of his hand sent us off to bed. Bilius jumped up and hurried to direct the Prefects on their way to guiding everyone along. He waved and pointed over the heads of the crowd to direct everyone, along with the Head Girl, a Hufflepuff whose name I didn’t know. James talked excitedly about the match against Ilvermorny as we walked up the rotating stairs toward the dorm high up in the towers, following along behind the other Gryffindors.

I quickly rushed up the stairs and Lily and I entered our dorm. It was just the same as we had left it, albeit slightly tidier. I changed quickly into my pyjamas, and, making sure that the common room was empty, I snuck into the second year boys’ dorm.

James and Sirius were flopped onto their beds. Remus was beginning to unpack his things, so I sat in the chair by his desk while Peter was grabbing some Chocolate Frogs from his trunk. He offered them to us, but we were all stuffed so we declined.

“So what do you think was the deal with Derek and the new Defense professor?” James asked, “Did you lot see how red he got when Dumbledore introduced her?”

I sat up, “Yeah, I saw! Looked rather ill, didn’t he? Think he knows that Blythe woman?”

“Maybe,” Sirius said.

Remus was already crawling into bed before we’d finished talking about the funny look on Derek’s face and he was asleep by the time Sirius had suggested we go and ask Derek about it. “Well, some other time then,” Sirius decided.


	4. 2nd September, 1972

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YIKES! I'm so sorry it's been about a week and a half since I last updated. I TECHNICALLY have no excuse, since I've written about 3/4 of year 2 already. Typically my routine involves proofreading the chapter with fresh eyes, before uploading it on the three sites I've published this story on (Quotev, here, and fanfiction.net). That takes at MOST 45 minutes, so I truly have no excuse as to my lagging. I might now upload every other day at the very latest, if not daily like before. Final "exams" (aka papers) are happening now, and won't be done til the end of next week, so once that's done at least I'll have a LOT more leisurely writing time! Thank you for sticking with the story thus far and hanging in there! To pay you back I'll upload two chapters today :)

Some other time to ask Derek turned out to be this morning at breakfast in the Great Hall. Derek was shovelling oatmeal quickly into his mouth when the five of us arrived and settled in around him. Derek glanced up, “Hullo,” he said, pausing only a moment in his devouring of breakfast to pay us any attention.

“What’s your hurry?” Sirius asked.

“Got things to do for, uh, Quidditch,” said Derek with a shrug. “I’ve been selected as Captain of the school team for the Ilvermorny tourney.”

James beamed, suddenly seeming quite confident. He probably thought he was a shoo-in for the school team. “Great!”

“S’lot of work to do,” Derek replied. He pushed the bowl away and it disappeared from the table with a pop. “Gotta go,” he added, getting up. He turned ‘round and ran smack into Cyrilla Blythe, on her way up to the faculty table. “S-sorry,” he grunted and, putting his head down, rushed away.

Professor Blythe turned and stared after him, a surprised look on her face.

“Sorry ma’am,” I said, “That was Derek Bell. He’s the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. Been chosen as the Hogwarts team captain as well, he says.” I grinned. “He didn’t hurt you did he, running off like that?”

Professor Blythe looked down at me. She was taller than most witches, but her features were quite young. No way had she been long out of Hogwarts before accepting this post. Surely no more than a year or two. She shook her head, “No, he didn’t. It’s quite alright. He’s been made school team captain, you say? Well good for him!” She quickly turned and hurried off without any further comment or question.

I looked ‘round at the others. “Oh yeah, something has gone on there.”

James and Sirius nodded.

Remus looked after Professor Blythe as she settled behind the faculty table. “Maybe we’d be best to stay out of it. Whatever it is, neither of them seem right jolly to see each other.”

Peter agreed, “She looks rather upset, actually.”

Professor Blythe did, indeed, look rather upset, eating a strawberry at the faculty table and glowering down at her plate as she did.

We settled ‘round the table and started in on breakfast, too. “As long as whatever it is that’s going on there doesn’t affect the fate of the Quidditch team, I’m perfectly happy to ignore it,” James announced. “So how good do you lot think the Ilvermorny team will be?”

“The Americans don’t even have a pro Quidditch team, do they?” Sirius asked, “Can’t be too serious about Quidditch if they haven’t got a way to go pro.”

“Isn’t the Keeper on the Harpies an American?” James asked, “I thought I read that somewhere…”

And with that, the pair of them descended into Quidditch talk. Peter gobbled his food and Remus stared into space, bored. But I decided to keep quiet and dial my attention in to the dark-haired pair. If I wanted to try out for the Gryffindor team, I’d need to know everything I could.

***

Since the first day of term was a Friday, we had the rare treat of our first days at the castle being free days. The energy of it filled the school halls and spilled onto the grounds. James, Peter, Remus and Sirius went back up to their dorm to collect James’ broomstick, and I grabbed my Shooting Star, planning to go outside and have a go at flying. In the bright sunshine outside, James and I leaped onto our brooms and took to the sky, leaving the other three running along behind us, like children following after a kite, all shouting and waving as they chased us along the grass. I felt so alive in the air, and I even attempted a small loop-de-loop before levelling off and enjoying the feeling of air passing through my hair and over my face. James, of course, was going crazy with techniques.

“Hey, nice flyin’ you two!” Called a voice, too close to have come from the ground.

I looked ‘round and spotted Bilius and Derek, both hovering not too far from us on their own respective brooms. I grinned, while James waved at them before turning and steering over their way. “Nice day for a go on the broom, isn’t it?” James asked as he approached us, “Too bad the try-outs weren’t today! Blimey, I doubt any person in the world could possibly fly poorly on a day like this, ey?”

“Doubt it,” agreed Bilius, smirking.

“When are the try-outs, by the way?” James asked, and it was hilarious at how he tried so hard to sound casual.

Derek replied, “I haven’t booked the pitch just yet, but they won’t be too much longer. Reason being, I want to get the Gryffindor team in place before focusing too much on this whole school team job, you know?”

James nodded, “That’s a grand idea.”

I smiled, “Could...could you let me know when they’re going to be? I’m planning on trying out, too.”

Derek raised his eyebrows, “You don’t say? I never would’ve pegged you a Quidditch player, Sabrina.” I was about to protest when Derek’s mouth split into a sarcastic grin.

“Don’t listen to him, mate,” said Bilius, “I’ll be excited to see you play,” He gave me a large grin.

I laughed, “Thanks, guys.”

James also chuckled, “We’ll see you lot later, then?”

“Always do,” Derek answered, and I sped away and watched as James spun off, effortlessly guiding his broomstick through the clouds.

James and I landed a few moments later on the grass before the other boys. I gave my broom to Sirius, and James gave his to Peter, who took off rather wobbly. 

The boys took turns on our brooms for the better part of the morning leading up to lunch, before we went inside to eat. We had sandwiches and ice cold glasses of tea. James chattered on and on and on about the Quidditch teams and the hard work he planned to put into preparing for the tryouts. Once we’d finished eating, Remus excused himself, saying he was sick of all the Quidditch talk. He went up to the dorms, while the four of us returned to the grounds.

The pitch was open, we found, and several other people had the same idea to go out to fly on the beautiful day, so the field was a bit crowded. Derek and Bilius were there, as well as several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and even a couple of Slytherins. 

Derek’s voice broke through the general hum of talkative voices, “Hey, Potter! You want to join us? We’re doing a bit of a pick-up game!”

James grinned, “Are you a nutter, of course!”

How about you, Stratford? Black? Pettigrew?”

I jumped up, “Sure!”

“We haven’t got brooms,” Sirius called back, pointing to Peter and himself. He turned to James and I, “You two have fun, though, we’ll watch from the stands. C’mon Peter.” Sirius pulled Peter along to go up to the benches, and they eventually found a good place to sit and watch the little game from.

James and I went down to the field, where Derek and the others had gathered together. The Slytherin captain, Alistor Mulciber and Derek were picking teams, and Derek motioned for James and I to join him.

“Oh boy, look at who it is,” I mumbled.

“What?” James looked ‘round to see I was looking over at the Slytherin pick-up team, and there among them was Severus Snape. Snape scowled back at us with a nasty frown. James scoffed, “Well we’ve got this game in the bag then, haven’t we, with that git flying for them.”

I snickered as Derek ushered us away from the other team quickly, his face flushed with excitement over the impromptu game and looked over the students he’d selected. There was a pretty good mixture of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws in the batch. He grinned ‘round at us, “Alright guys, we need to win this,” he said, “I’ve got a couple galleons riding on it.” He looked about, “Let’s see...alright, well for the first bit here I’ll play Keeper. And...ok, Sabrina, you be a Chaser. You’re going to work on putting the Quaffle through the rings,” he explained.

“I know what a Chaser does,” I said, nodding, excited as adrenaline began its way into my bloodstream. “I’ve spent enough time reading and being in the presence of this one,” I gestured to James, who snickered.

“James, you have a go as Seeker.”

He nodded, grinning, “Absolutely.”

“Andy, you be a Beater, and Penny, you’re our second Chaser…” Derek went on assigning roles to each of the students in the cluster around him. When he’d finished naming all the positions, he turned ‘round to face the other team’s captain. They approached one another and shook hands. “We’re playing clean, Mulciber, remember this isn’t for any house points at all, it’s just in fun.”

Mulciber grinned wickedly, “Of course it is.” They shook hands and Derek turned back to the team, waving for us to go off to our respective places on the pitch.

James and I rose up into the air. The game commenced as Alice Bell tossed the Quaffle into the air from the ground below and released the other three balls from the case. The Bludgers went speeding up into the game like bloodthirsty minions and the Snitch seemed to shimmer and then disappear into the sky.

What followed was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. It wasn’t long before I grabbed the Quaffle, and shot by James with it under one arm, and easily threw the ball past the Keeper for the other team and through the hoop beyond. Several shouts came from the stands. Sirius and Peter were on their feet and Sirius was pumping the air with his first. I blushed when I flew back down the pitch from the rings and quite breathless, “I think Quidditch is great,” I informed James.

“Blimey, good goal, Sabrina,” he said excitedly.

I grinned as the wind whipped through my messy hair. I expected my already unkempt golden locks to look like a pile of straw by the end of the game.

A Bludger came at us suddenly, hit by one of the Slytherins: Evan Rosier I think his name was, and James quickly jumped between me and the Bludger without warning, taking a hit in his shoulder. He grunted in pain. Andy Tinnamin - who was playing Beater today - quickly flew up with his Beater’s bat and sent the Bludger off in return to Rosier with enough force that Rosier nearly fell off his broom with the strike as the Bludger kept on bowling across the pitch. “You alright, Potter?” Andy asked.

“I’m fine,” James replied, “I can take a Bludger hit with no problem!” He clutched his shoulder, and I grew worried, as it looked like it was smarting quite a lot. James quickly darted away before I could say anything, however.

The longer the game went on, the more dirty the other team seemed ready to play. Alistor Mulciber was certainly not listening to Derek’s advice that the game should be played cleanly. Several times they made illegal action in the plays they were doing. At one point Antonin Dolohov very purposely hit Bilius in the back with his Beaters Mallet when there were no Bludgers around. Even with all of the dirty play, however, our team was still up on points. I’d like to think in part because of me, as I had scored several times against the Slytherin Keeper.

However, I knew that the most important thing right now is that James would catch the Snitch - and soon. Not just to win the game, but to stop anyone from getting seriously hurt. James swept about over the others, his eyes peeling, while being closely followed by Severus Snape.

All of a sudden I saw a golden glint by me. I had to squint my eyes, and by the time I realised that the Snitch was rather close to me, I saw the black figure of Severus swooping my way.

“JAMES!” I screamed, pointing my fingers at Severus as he dove down, down, through the bustle of the game, and I flew up high so I wouldn’t be knocked off my broom…

James thankfully heard me and dove for it. He pushed on his broom, leaning as far as he could…

The two boys collided just feet from the ground, their brooms knocking into each other, sending both riders rolling onto the grass of the pitch and the little gold ball sweeping off across the grass. James leaped to his feet, using Severus for leverage, and jumped into the air, only just barely catching the Snitch before it escaped completely, his fingers tightly closed over the ball’s wings as it flapped, eager to get away.

Suddenly, James’ legs seemed to become jelly-like and he tripped over his own feet, slamming shoulder-first into the ground with a crunch that was quite gut-wrenching.

James let out a shout, unable to hamper the noise for the pain that shot up his arm. He only just managed to hold onto the Snitch, likely because it was the hand that held it was the one that had crunched and he didn’t dare move a muscle, because it would hurt. “Bloody HELL!” he groaned and agaonised as me, Derek, Alistor Mulciber, and several others landed on the grass. “Oh bloody hell, my shoulder!”

Severus was just getting up, dusting himself off, a seam in his robe torn from the impact of the two broomsticks, and glowering at James. “That was an illegal play!” Snarled Alistor Mulciber, angrily, “It doesn’t count.”

“Don’t be sore just because you didn’t win,” retorted Derek, “If you wanted to call every dodgy play that was done then you would’ve been thrown off the pitch ages ago. Don’t go calling penalties now you’re the one that’s been wronged, Mulciber.”

The two boys squared off as though to fight and Bilius cleared his throat, “Both of you, that’s enough, or I’ll have to tell Madam Hooch and that’ll just muss up the whole Quidditch season...c’mon,” he grabbed Derek’s shoulder, “This isn’t worth the battle. It’s not an official game anyway,” he reminded him.

Derek scowled. “I won’t forget this, Mulciber. Just you wait--” he pointed at the Slytherin captain, “And don’t think I don’t know who your dirty players are - we won’t have any of that lot in the school team, either!”

Mulciber snorted, “I wouldn’t want to play with a bunch of ruddy Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers anyway.” He looked pointedly at me, who had come to a stop and my eyes became wide, an anger boiling in me.

Sirius and Peter had arrived on the field by then, and before Derek could have a go at Mulciber, Sirius said, “James is hurt, we need to get him up to the Hospital Wing.”

Bilius pulled Derek back, “C’mon, it isn’t worth it.”

Derek kept his eyes on Mulciber as he and the rest of our team helped James off the pitch and across the grounds. Derek was fuming as we climbed the stairs to the Hospital Wing. “Ruddy want to play unfair, do they? And in a pick-up game, no less. They’ll be sorry...bloody gits…”

Bilius took a deep breath, “S’gon be alright, Der...they’ll get what’s comin’ to ‘em...the whole lot of then. The bad guys never finish first.”

Derek said, “Actually the phrase is nice guys finish last, but thanks.”

Bilius shrugged, “I don’t know the Muggle slang, mate! None of that Muggle jargon makes any sense!”

***

I burst into the boys’ dorm to collect Remus this evening. He must’ve been taking a nap, because he sat up blearily from his bed when I came in, yelling his name.

“Oh good, you’re up!” I said, grinning eagerly. I grabbed Peter’s bag from the back of his desk where he’d hung it up, as he’d asked me to fetch it for him. “Peter said he’s about to go and knick enough butterbeers for the whole house!”

Remus blinked in confusion, “What?”

“We’re all celebrating,” I announced, “You should come down and join in!”

“What’re we celebrating? Is the second of September usually a holiday?” asked Remus, looking quite bewildered.

I chuckled at how gravely concerned he looked. “The win!”

“What win?”

“The Quidditch win! We won!” I explained, “Just come downstairs, James’ll be telling the story all night, I’m sure, you’ll know in no time!”

Remus sighed and got up. He paused to look at the mirror that James had left on his desk - the remnants of the Dark Lord’s mirror we’d gone charging into the forest for last term. He straightened his hair with his fingers and a bit of spit. He took a deep breath as I grabbed his hand and pulled him down the stairs eagerly.

The common room was crowded with Gryffindors from every year, milling about. Bilius was magicking Gryffindor crests about the room and the rest of the lot was gathered around to where James, arm in a sling, stood on the coffee table, reenacting the game play-by-play. I tossed Peter’s bag to his outstretched arms, and he scurried off through the portrait hole. I joined the group of the few people who had also played, like Derek Bell.

“And then I saw the Snitch and I bolted for it and Snape saw me go for it and dives, too--” James was embellishing, bending his knees to portray himself speeding downward. “And my arm’s outstretched, I’ve almost got the snitch and BLAM!” He slapped his knee for effect, making one of the new first years, a girl named Zelie Eicher, nearly somersault in surprise, “Snape slams right into me! Saw me and everything - didn’t even try and slow up. He was trying to knock the Snitch out of my hand, I reckon, but I held on tight and he hexes me, makes me fall off my broom a good twenty feet and that’s how I got this,” he indicated the sling his arm was in.

I cocked an eyebrow, “If I remember correctly, I yelled to you that I saw the Snitch as I saw Snape dive for it first,” 

James shrugged, “He tried to take our win off us!” He said, “And it wasn’t even an official game!”

“Bloody prats,” muttered Derek, still sore on the subject.

Sirius and I grinned at each other with amusement and Remus shook his head as James embellished more and more. Soon Peter had returned with the butterbeers and passed the golden bottles around the room. Everyone in Gryffindor house seemed quite keen on celebrating, loudly. 

I stopped for air after I chugged half a butterbeer, before I noticed Remus climbing through the portrait hole out of the corner of my eye. I instantly felt concern for him, and so I deftly followed, after grabbing another bottle.

I found him sitting on the stairs by the corridor, hugging his knees to his chest. I sat down carefully, so as not to startle him, on the stair next to him. I held the unopened bottle up and pushed it into his hands gently when his eyes opened to look at me. I smiled quietly, then twisted the cap off my own bottle and took a swig without saying a single word. Remus twisted his cap off, too, and also took a sip, watching me as I contemplated what, if anything, I wanted to say.

Finally, I looked over at him, “I know I can’t understand what you’re going through, but...well, I’m here. If there’s anything you ever need to talk about, you’ve always got me to go to.” I smiled ruefully at Remus.

Remus stared at the friendship bracelet on his wrist. “Thanks,” he mumbled quietly.

“Not a problem,” I answered. I licked my lips and took another sip of butterbeer.

Remus leaned so his elbows rested on his knees and he stared down at his feet. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me lately. You’re the only person in that whole common room that noticed I’d left. You’re the only one that’s really been checking on me at all, really…”

“Well you need a friend who won’t walk on eggshells around you.”

Remus smiled over at me, “Sabrina, what I’m trying to say is that you’ve got a big heart. You care about people extremely well.”

I felt a bit stunned and I sat back, leaning on the stair in contemplative silence. I didn’t think I had any special way of caring, it didn’t feel like it was any more than it ought to be. Remus was sad. Not only because of his mum, but also for his lycanthropy. He had this look in his eyes that made me feel a sorrowful twinge in my stomach.

I bit my lower lip, staring at the back of Remus’ head, at the way the sandy hair rested at the nape of his neck and the slight curve of his shoulders. I followed those down his arms...and winced at the silvery-pink scars on his skin. I sat up and ran a finger over one of them, making Remus jump with a shiver.

He drained the last of the butterbeer in his bottle, effectively pulling his arm away from me without being rough about it. He stood up. “We should probably get back to the common room, ‘ey, before they notice we’ve gone and James takes it as license to tell me the story again.” 

“Alright,” I said, standing up too. I felt quite badly, as I had likely crossed a line by touching his scars.

We walked back to the portrait hole in silence.

The common room was still abuzz when we got back, James still relishing his time in the centre of attention, and Sirius was now helping to provide a version of the story from the perspective of the stands, embellishing his tale just as flourishingly as James had done, with Lily shaking her head. By the time we went to bed, not one person in the entire of Gryffindor remembered the game as it had really happened.

I went to bed that night after Lily reminded me how to braid my hair and lay under the covers, thinking about my talk with Remus. I was quite glad I’d gone after him when I’d seen him sneak out of the common room. I rolled and hugged one of my extra pillows to my chest and stared out the window at the moon as it rose in the sky, thinking about the reasons that had brought sadness to his eyes.

That night, I had a familiar dream, one that I’d had since the night we’d all gone into the forest last term. I was walking through the trees, the moonlight jetting through the leaves, the fallen bracken and twigs snapping and crunching beneath my feet. I was alone, and afraid, and certain that something was waiting among the brush. Every time I’d had this dream it had quickly escalated into a nightmare with a clearing punctuated by the cackling laughter of that horrible woman: Bellatrix Lestrange.

But tonight, the clearing was peaceful and still and I stood in the pale disc of light, looking about for the path that would lead me back, when suddenly there came a form through the trees. Squinting, I couldn’t quite make it out, only that it was large and moving around the darkness as though watching me. I knew I should be afraid, but I wasn’t. Whatever it was, I felt as though it stood between me and perhaps some other danger, as though it was protecting me without me ever noticing. I turned as it moved around, keeping the silhouette of it in my sight as best I could…

“Come out,” I called to it. “Please.” It stopped and I knew it was about to. The form came closer and started to step out into the light: one lean leg passed through the line of the trees, over the edge of the shadow, and the moonlight reflected off it, blinding my eyes and--

I woke up, the rays of morning sun on my eyelids.


	5. 3rd September, 1972

I woke up, the rays of morning sun on my eyelids.

I tugged my blankets closer ‘round my shoulders and sighed, wishing I knew what it had been that had kept the nightmare away.

None of the boys were awake, but Lily was in the common room with several of the first years, showing them how to magic ribbons into their braids. The girls were all squealing with delight as she worked on Ali Fortescue’s hair, making the most lovely pattern with the strands of golden hair that hung over Ali’s shoulders. “You’ve got the softest hair I’ve ever felt,” Lily told her. “It’s just gorgeous.”

“Thanks!” Ali squeaked happily, “It’s the honey shampoo! It makes it soft and shiny!”

“It’s very lovely,” I agreed, settling down beside Lily. 

None of the boys, not even Remus, was up yet, so I went down to breakfast with Lily and the other girls over an hour later. When all the first years had charged on ahead to gush over their pretty hairstyles Lily had given them, Lily smiled over at me as we rode one of the rotating stairs, “Thanks for helping out, that would’ve taken forever without you.”

“No problem,” I replied, “Normally I’m not one for cutsey grooming, but it was rather fun. And look how excited they are over some ribbon.”

Lily’s eyes glittered, “You looked like that last year, you know, nearly all the time with your posse of boys.”

I flushed, “It seems like forever ago.”

Lily nodded, “You were really good yesterday, by the way. Sorry James took all the glory at the party last night. He might’ve caught the snitch, but you were definitely the star of the game! All those goals you scored!”

I laughed, “I think James needs the attention more than I do.”

Lily shrugged. “Well, when you make the team and show him up, he’ll have to share the spotlight then, won’t he?”

I flushed again. “I didn’t know you were so interested in my making the team.”

“What? Why wouldn’t I be?” Lily asked, astounded.

I shrugged, “Dunno…” I replied quietly.

Lily studied my face for a moment, “Sabrina…”

“Well, didn’t you say that last year it was stupid, caring about Quidditch so much?” I asked, “I mean, you spent all of last term making fun of James and Sirius for talking about nothing but Quidditch. Remember?”

Lily shrugged, “If you’re playing, I might just become a fan of the sport myself.”

“Yeah?” I asked, a smile creeping onto my face.

“Maybe,” Lily replied. “I mean, if one of my friends is the star of the team… I can hardly stay calm then, can I?”

I laughed, “I don’t know about the star.”

Lily grinned. “I do.”

***

Later that night, the boys and I were up in the Gryffindor common room by the fire. Sirius, James, Peter and I were playing a four-way game of Exploding Snap, and Remus was reading through his History of Magic textbook. Suddenly, the portrait hole opened and Professor McGonagall came into the room.

“Good evening, Gryffindors,” McGonagall’s voice, with its crisp Scottish accent, rang through the room. 

Everyone in the common room looked up in surprise. This was the first time I could ever remember a teacher coming to the common room. A nervous feeling dropped over us, as though we were all in agreement that McGonagall’s arrival was quite foreboding.

Especially with a face as grave and pale as the one which she wore now.

Especially when she’d come without dressing: already in her tartan pyjama robes, her hair curled atop her head in a loose bun.

“Derek and Alice Bell.”

The names hung in the air.

Alice was pale as she stood up, disengaging from the cluster of first years that had gathered around her and Lily. Derek had a similar cast to his face as he got up and left the table where he’d been talking in undertones all evening to Bilius Weasley and Andy Tinnamin about the Quidditch team...they walked across the room and McGonagall said, “Come with me.”

Alice let out a wail at the words. “What’s the matter? What’s happened?” she sobbed, “It’s something awful isn’t it?” Derek grabbed hold of her, pulling her to him strongly and squeezed her shoulder.

McGonagall didn’t deny it, but clearly didn’t want to discuss whatever it was with the entirety of Gryffindor house watching on with horrified expressions. “Come with me, dear, we’ll have a cup of tea,” she said, though her voice cracked.

Alice clung onto Derek and he showed her through the portrait hole, followed closely by Professor McGonagall.

When the Fat Lady had closed once more, silence carried on over all of us students in the house. Glances were exchanged among us, nervous fear in each of the onlooker’s eyes. Bilius looked downright sick to his stomach and Lily had tears in her eyes already. “Blimey,” said James quietly, “What d’you think that’s about?”

“Somebody’s died,” Remus said numbly. His fists were clenched and he turned back around to stare at the fire.

Everyone waited. The silence held. James, Sirius and I didn’t return to the Exploding Snap game, although Peter did make one last move on the board since it had been his turn when we’d all been interrupted. The poor first years looked petrified, and Lily began doing their hair to calm them down. Bilius began to pace within the hour, when Derek and Alice didn’t return. After two hours, when the entire house was still waiting, he announced that he was going to find Dumbledore to see what had happened.

When he returned, some time later, his fists were balled in anger and his face was as red as his hair. He looked around at our curious upturned faces and he announced, “They’ve left the castle, we might as well all go to bed.”

“But what happened, mate?” called Alex Tinnamin.

Bilius said, “Voldemort’s killed their parents.”

A terrified gasp filled the room. Remus turned quite green, and he quickly rushed off to the boys’ toilet.

The room seemed to shake with the weight of the words that had come from Bilius. “But why?” Asked one of the first years, a boy named Harry Kensington. “What have they done?”

“Dunno if Voldemort really needs a reason, does he?” Bilius asked with a small shrug. “At least not a good one, anyway.”

“What about the Quidditch tryouts?” asked James. I facepalmed.

“REALLY?!” Shrieked Lily, making several of the first years before her jump from the pitch of it. “You hear news like this and the first thing you think to ask is about the bloody Quidditch tryouts? You selfish little--”

“Lily...enough,” said Bilius. He sounded tired, like he was well beyond his years. He drew a deep breath, “Seriously. Everyone go to bed. It’s past midnight and there’s nothing more we can do to help Derek and Alice anyway. Besides, classes start tomorrow. So off with the lot of you.”

Reluctantly, everyone started off to their dorms. Sirius, James, Peter and I lingered until Remus had come out of the toilets. He looked quite pale from having been sick, and we followed suit of everyone else, heading up to our dorms.

As I changed into my pyjamas, I said to Lily, “I doubt James meant anything rude by asking about Quidditch, you know.”

“Maybe it would’ve been better to wait ‘til tomorrow to ask it,” Lily growled. I knew her anger wasn’t placed at me, so I nodded.

We got into our pyjamas, and crawled beneath our covers, the torches out and the light from the window the only thing illuminating the darkness. It was long into the smallest hours of the morning before I would finally drift off, my hatred for the Dark Lord and worry for my own parents only magnified by the news.

***

“Lily!”

I awoke from a dream: the same dream, the clearing and the large, unknown creature watching me from the darkness, protecting me...I lay in the tangle of blankets and pillows, trying to wrap my mind around what it was that had awakened me. I was about to roll over and assume there’d been nothing when a tiny, mousy little voice called out my roomate’s name once again. “Lily!”

I sat up in my bed and reached for my wand on the nightstand. “Lumos,” I muttered, rubbing my other hand over my eyes to get the sleep out of them. I went over to Lily’s bed, and shook her awake. “You’ve got a visitor,” I yawned. 

Lily rubbed her eyes, and went over to push our dorm room door open. Ali Fortescue, the first year, peeked ‘round the frame. “I’m sorry I woke you both up but...I...I can’t sleep.”

I yawned even louder. “Sorry ‘bou that. Why can’t you sleep?” 

“It’s just...I’m scared,” Ali continued, “And...Lily’s are probably my only friend here. And...I was hoping I could maybe sleep in here.”

Lily nodded, “C’mon,” she said. We scooted over to make room as Ali came in, closed the door behind her, and ran across the room to join Lily in her big cushy bed. Lily and I climbed onto her bed to join her. “I’ll be your friend, if you want, too, Ali.” I said with a smile. She grinned back, before the fearful expression returned to her face.

“Why are you scared?” Lily asked as Ali snuggled into the pillows and blankets beside her.

“Because of what happened with Alice Bell and her brother,” said Ali quietly. “To their parents.”

Lily nodded, “I understand. We’re both scared because of that, too. Sabrina and I are Muggleborns, you know.”

I added, “There’s very bad wizards out there, Ali. We’ve both seen him ourselves, the Dark Lord, you know. He’s quite scary.”

“But he’s just an ordinary wizard at the end of the day, you know...you’ll see. One day, he’ll be defeated.” Lily said.

Ali turned pink. “Well it’s not just that. It’s...well, I think I might have been sorted wrong. By the hat, I mean,” she confessed.

“Sorted wrong?” Lily asked. “The Sorting Hat doesn’t really make any mistakes,” she said.

“Everyone says Gryffindors are supposed to be brave,” Ali whispered, “But I don’t feel brave at all.”

“Sure you are,” Lily answered.

Ali frowned and shook her head. “I’m terrified.”

“You should be,” I replied, “But that doesn’t mean you aren’t brave.” Ali gave me a look of disbelieving doubt. “No, seriously!” I defended myself, “You’ve got to look at everything you’re doing. You’re really far from home, probably for the first time in your life, right? You’re meeting all these new people and you’re not sure which ones to trust and which ones not to trust, and there’s nobody really all too familiar.”

“Then on top of it,” Lily added, “This thing happens to Derek and Alice...of course you’re scared! But you haven’t given up, have you? You haven’t gone fleeing off the grounds screaming or anything. No! You were brave enough to come up here and knock on our door and ask to come in, weren’t you? That had to be scary, too. But here you are.”

“Yeah…” Ali agreed reluctantly.

Lily shrugged, “You can’t be brave if you aren’t afraid of whatever it is you’re facing. Being afraid is part of being brave. It’s just a matter of whether you let that fear dictate how you respond to it. You can cower to the fear, or you can push through it and take head on. That is bravery.” Lily brushed a bit of hair off of Ali’s forehead. “I think the Sorting Hat did a fabulous job.”

Ali smiled, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And thanks for letting me stay here with both of you, too,” Ali added.

“Anytime,” I answered.

The three of us fell asleep on Lily’s bed not long after: after all, it had been a long day. Though I tried to sink back into the dream, eager to find out what the beast was that was protecting me in it, I couldn’t manage to conjure the imagery of the clearing again that night, and rested dreamlessly until the morning sun had awakened us.


	6. 4th September, 1972

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SheRipper says, "Aww! In the start of the chapter Lily being so supportive and stuff for another girl being good at sports was sweet, I loved! Like, yes, girl power, be friends not enemies!"
> 
> Yes, I love stories in which the girls empower one another, and aren't catty and bickery just for the sake of it. Sure, Lily disapproves of Sabrina's being friends with the marauders at times, but they're still close, and as the only two Gryffindor girls in their year, they stick together!

“New year, same classes,” muttered James, staring at his timetable in the Great Hall.

“We’ll have new topics next year,” Sirius said around a mouthful of toast, “As well as these. Enjoy this while it lasts!”

“More classes?” Peter squeaked, looking up, wide-eyed, “I can barely keep up with just these!” He put down his timetable, which he’d been looking at over a large bowl of sugary Muggle cereal. “Are you serious?”

With a grin, Sirius answered, “Serious is my middle name. Actually, it’s my first, isn’t it?”

I smirked as at his quip as I put away my own timetable, shoving it into my robe pocket and picking up my toast. “You’ve always got a smart comeback, don’t you?” I said, with a playful roll of my eyes. 

James looked me up and down, noting my normally poofy and ratty dirty blonde hair being kept neat in the braid that Lily did for me. Remus, too, was staring. “Blimey, you look different with your hair like that.” James said.

“Looks as though you’ve maybe used some of Mr. Potter’s Sleekeazy Potion, eh Sabrina?” Sirius snickered. I chuckled, myself.

Remus turned back to look at Sirius in confusion. “What?”

James turned red, “Don’t ask. My dad’s a nutter.”

I stroked my braid with pride. “Why, it’s the hair-smoothing sensation that’s taking over the world!” I teased, “If only it wasn’t for the Magical Beasts Alliance keeping him from shaving all the world’s dragons.”

“Nawh,” James muttered, “It’s only the asian dragons he wants to shave.”

Sirius snickered, “I remember him saying that now.”

Peter’s face twitched, “Sleekeazy...I feel like I’ve heard of that before.”

“It hasn’t been Ministry-approved just yet,” James explained, “It’s still in testing stages but they sell it at a couple of shops in Diagon Alley.” He rolled his eyes, and, as if instinctual, ran a hand through his hair to mess it up.

I laughed. “But soon a bottle of the magic hair potion will be in the bathroom cupboards of every self-respecting witch and wizard with mops like these.” I grabbed onto a bit of James’ hair and tugged it to display the sort of mess that the potion would tame.

“If you apply it correctly and regularly, of course,” Sirius added, just in the way that Mr. Potter had done in King’s Cross after inspecting his son’s ever unruly hair.

James swatted me off, “Oi, don’t make me hex you, Stratford!”

“Like to see you try, Potter,” I snickered. Now it was Sirius that wrapped his arm ‘round James’ neck and pulled him in closer so as to mess up his hair even worse with his knuckles as James grunted and pushed at Sirius’ arm.

“Not you too, gerrofferme!” whined James.

Lily passed by us, glancing over disapprovingly at their rough-housing, and sat down at the end of the table with Frank, Bilius, and a few of the first years. I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she pulled a jar of raspberry jam closer and smeared it on her buttered toast with an excited look upon her face, ignoring the boys.

Finally, Sirius let James go and turned back to his stack of toast and eggs with that smirk still shadowed on his face. Free at last, James looked back down at his own toast, avoiding Lily’s green eyes.

“Do you reckon classes will be much harder this year than they were last year?” Peter asked, jumping back to the conversation we’d been having earlier. “Because I hardly remember some of the things we were learning in Charms last term… Flitwick will give us a review, won’t he?”

I shrugged, “You know as well as I do, Pete,” I said.

***

We all scrambled off to our first class of the term: Transfiguration. “Funny not going to Defense, isn’t it?” Lily asked as we trudged through the castle to the Transfiguration classroom.

“I know,” Sirius agreed, “I’m rather upset about it, too. I wanted to find out what the deal with that Professor Blythe is and now we have to wait until bloody Wednesday.”

Lily looked confused, “What deal?” she asked, “What’re you talking about?”

I filled her in, “When Dumbledore announced her, Derek Bell made the funniest face. Like he was wanting to hide under the table. Then we met her in the Great Hall the other day and they had quite an awkward moment. As though they knew each other.”

Lily raised an eyebrow, “Well, perhaps they do.”

“Perhaps,” James shrugged, “But I’d like to know how and what the awkwardness was all about!”

“What do you need to go nosing about in other peoples’ business for?” Lily demanded, “If they wanted you to know, they’d tell you.”

James rolled his eyes, “I’m just curious is all, haven’t you ever been curious before? Blimey...don’t go biting my head off.”

Lily snapped, “I’m not biting your head off, I’m just telling you that you ought to keep your mind on your own worries instead of butting in on other peoples’!”

“You should talk,” James answered heatedly. Remus and I looked at each other with silent frustration at their bickering.

“What’s that supposed to mean, then?” Lily demanded.

“Nothing! Just that you’re always imposing yourself on other people, giving your two sickle’s worth, asking questions about what we’re talking about and coming after us into the Forest last term when we didn’t even ask you, then blaming us for it. You’re not any better.”

“At least I don’t go sniffing about in everybody’s personal affairs like a busybody!”

James snorted.

“Don’t you make that noise at me, James Potter,” Lily’s face was quite pink, “Or I’ll--”

“Oiiii, people, people!!” I broke in, waving my hands up and catching Lily’s wand in my palm before she could cast any hexes on James. I looked between the two of them, “Hang on to your knickers, mates.”

We’d reached the Transfiguration room anyway, and Remus pointed it out that we were there. “You don’t want to go jinxing him in front of McGonagall,” He said to Lily, “Good way to end up with a detention, that is. And on the first day of classes, too. We’ve got quite a long time for the two of you to duel each other later.” Lily scowled, but backed down. The two both calmed down and followed Remus, Peter, Sirius and I into the room.

However, when we walked into the room, Professor McGonagall was nowhere to be seen. Remus sat with me, Sirius sat with James, and Lily was left to sit with Peter.

James was wildly looking about. “The timetables did say Transfiguration first, right?” he asked.

Peter said, “Yes. Breakfast, then Transfiguration, followed by Charms, then lunch.”

James nudged Sirius, “Look. Filch’s got a new cat. Mrs. Norris must’ve finally offed. About time, too, that cat was nothing but a walking corpse.”

I followed James’ pointing finger and saw a sleek grey tabby cat sitting before the desk, looking over the classroom. “Filch isn’t teaching today, is he?” I asked nervously, imagining a classroom setting with Filch presiding over the lesson, making me want to skive off. “I mean, what if McGonagall’s been held up with Derek and Alice and couldn’t make it? Would Dumbledore have Filch fill in?”

“Nawh, Filch wouldn’t be teaching,” James replied from my left, “I heard he’s a Squib,” he said.

“See?” Lily hissed, “Always got your big nose in other people’s business.”

James’ eyes narrowed at the back of her head, “Listening to us again, aren’t you?”

“Maybe if you didn’t have such a big mouth to go with that big nose then I wouldn’t be able to,” Lily said.

“I thought you rather liked big noses, giving the size of the schnoz on that Snivellus bloke you’ve been snogging,” James snapped.

Lily turned ‘round, and it took a lot out of me to not slam my head on the desk. “I haven’t been snogging Snivellus...I mean Severus...and oh, for Merlin’s sake, will you bloody stop calling him that?!”

“Snivellus, Snivellus,” sing-songed James under his breath, “Slimey-grimey Snivellus.”

Suddenly, the cat in the front of the classroom was no longer a cat. Sirius urgently punched James in the shoulder and hissed, “Shut up!” Professor McGonagall was at the front of the room, exactly where the cat had been but a moment before.

“Woah,”I said.

I was staring wide-eyed, dropped-jawed up at McGonagall...as were the others. I felt a twinge of interest, and Remus looked like he was about to burst from excitement.

“How did you do that?” Squeaked Peter.

Professor McGonagall, who’d been giving James and Lily a hard look, perhaps contemplating detention for the fighting, turned to look at Peter. I instantly heard James sigh in relief. “I am an animagus,” she explained. “It is a very specific sort of Transfiguration. A very advanced sort. This ability is something which is one of the many possibilities for those who apply themselves to become very skilled at the art.”

Lily asked, “Does it hurt?”

McGonagall shook her head, “No, Miss Evans. I would describe the actual process of changing as mildly discomforting, but not particularly painful, no.”

“Can you do it whenever you want to?” I asked.

“Yes,” McGonagall replied, and, to demonstrate, quickly became a cat once more. Her features melted from our teacher into the grey tabby which, I now noticed, had markings ‘round the eyes where her spectacles were.

“CAN YOU UNDERSTAND US WHEN YOU’RE A CAT, PROFESSOR?” shouted Peter, leaning over his desk to look the cat in the face.

McGonagall turned back into herself, rubbing her ear as she did so, “Yes, Mister Pettigrew, I can understand just as well as a cat as I can as a human. My hearing…” she added pointedly, “Is actually quite a bit better as well.” Her eyes flashed back to James, emphasising that she’d heard his song mocking Snape. He sank lowering into his chair.

Lily raised her hand.

“Miss Evans?”

“Do you get to choose to be a cat?”

Professor McGonagall shook her head, “The animal which an animagus becomes is not of their choosing. Much like a patronus, every wizard’s animal is unique to them. Some of the American spiritualist wizards believe that the patronus and animagus forms of any witch or wizard is linked to their spirit animal: the creatures which best represents them or whose lessons speak into their lives. The Native American spiritualist wizards believe that this animal’s spirit lives alongside us in life and death. We can share the lesson of many animals over a lifetime, which is why often when a witch or wizard has been through a life-altering event, his or her patronus and animagus form may change. But it is not of the witch or wizard’s choosing.”

I asked, “Do you like being a cat?” 

“Yes,” Professor McGonagall replied, “It is rather peaceful, actually. Though I must say, the hairballs are terrible.” She cleared her throat as though to emphasise, and magicked herself a cup of tea on the desk as she went ‘round.

“Well how do they know Voldemort isn’t turning into one of the rats or cats or frogs or owls going in and out of here every day?” Sirius demanded, “How do they keep bad guys from just turning into their spirit animals and sneaking off doing nasty things? How would the Aurors ever find them?!”

McGonagall sipped her tea, “There is a registry,” she explained, “If you choose to become an animagus, you must be registered with the sort of animal you can turn into as well as the specific markings that your form takes on.”

“What happens if you don’t register?” asked James, laughing, “Do you get collected by the pound?”

Sirius snickered.

McGonagall’s eyes met James’ and he stopped laughing instantly, frozen by the stare she was giving him. “No, Mister Potter, you do not get collected by the pound,” she said. “You are sent to Azkaban. Foregoing registration is a very serious offense for exactly the reason Mister Black has just described. It is not a laughing matter.”

James nodded.

“Are you going to teach us how to be animaguses?”

“No, Mister Pettigrew, I will not teach you to become animagi,” McGonagall said. “As I mentioned, it is a very advanced Transfiguration skill, which none of you are at the level of learning to do. It is something one learns through extremely careful study...and many years of it, might I add...and couldn’t possibly be achieved by underage wizards. Especially ones whose exam marks were as low as some of the marks earned in this very room,” she added pointedly.

Peter’s cheeks blazed red.

“I am merely demonstrating the things that Transfiguration could lead up to. Rather, today we’ll be working with these…” she turned and lifted a box of small white mice from her desk.

“Her snacks for later?” I whispered under my breath to Remus, who covered his mouth to keep from laughing.


	7. 8th and 9th September, 1972

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, cos this is going to be a SAD chapter >:)

8th September, 1972

Peter’s fear that the classwork might be harder in our second year than it had been before was certainly sound. The lessons were much more complicated and the homework doubled. Peter was fretting all over the place, shutting himself up in his dorm to study long before the rest of us were ready to go to bed.

In Herbology, we were given a term-long assignment of caring for mandrakes, which were the strangest plants I’d seen in all my life. They were these gnarly little things that screamed when pulled from the earth, whose cries could make the hearer go unconscious. Peter ended up knocked out for half the class when he dropped his mandrake and the earmuffs fell off as he bent to pick them up from the floor of the greenhouse. Then in Potions on Wednesday, he spilled his project all down the front of himself and the concoction hissed and sparked loudly as Professor Slughorn hastened to pull him off to Madam Pomfrey’s. Add it to his black eye from a swinging telescope in Astronomy, the fact that he forgot his wand in the second Charms class of the term, and that he was bit by his mandrake in the second Herbology today...it was a very unusual horrible first week for Peter. I felt really badly for him, and helped him change his bandages whenever needed.

“I’m doomed,” he moaned from his bed on Friday night, after all the classes were mercifully over and he was safely in the boys’ dorm. 

The rest of us were working on an essay for Slughorn. I was sitting on Sirius’ bed writing, while he and James huddled over Remus’ desk as he wrote, making notes for good things to say by what Remus had done. James, who was sitting on Remus’ desk beside the essay and had his own parchment on his knee, didn’t even look up, “You aren’t doomed.”

“I am,” Peter said heavily, “I am doomed, I’m going to fail every class this year and Dumbledore’s going to expel me for being such a crummy student.”

I jotted down a note about murtlap’s healing qualities and said, “Don’t worry, Pete, I don’t think they can expel people for being bad at classes...you just might have to take the year over again.” 

Sirius pointed at one of the sentences Remus was writing with his quill tip. “What’s that word there?”

“Sod off,” Remus replied.

“Sod off?” Sirius said, squinting, “But that doesn’t make sense...murtlap’s most important quality is sod off?”

Remus looked up, “You do realise your textbook is an excellent place from which to get this information, yea?” He asked, glancing between James and Sirius. “It’s got loads of details and facts about murtlap.”

Sirius stared at Remus.

“You do know how to use it, right?” Remus continued sarcastically, “You lift the lid, see, and there’s words in there. You wouldn’t believe it, mate, but if you read them, they tell you things. And, if you go to the section on murtlap - get this - it’ll tell you what the most important quality is.”

Sirius grinned, “But, Remus, what fun is that? A textbook definition of murtlap and its qualities would hardly be as spiffing as you telling us. You tell it so well. Look at that sentence structure!” He waved his palm at the parchment.

“Yeah,” said James, chiming in, “The way you describe it is scintillating.”

Remus looked down at his paper and rolled his eyes, “If we get caught cheating because you copied off my paper I’m not defending either of you,” he warned.

Sirius sighed, “Fine, I’ll use Sabrina’s notes.”

I rolled my eyes cheekily, “I'm so flattered that I’m your second choice.”

Sirius crawled onto the bed next to me and a few seconds later pointed to my parchment. “What’s that word?”

“It’s plasma,” I replied, “The plasma is the liquid the murtlap produces when you cut off one of its vines. When diluted, the plasma can be used to heal cuts, burns, and other skin-level wounds until they can be properly seen by a medical witch or wizard.”

“Plasma…” Sirius bit his tongue as he wrote it on his parchment, before pausing and asking, “How do you spell that?”

“Bloody hell, you sure you don’t want to bother Remus instead?”

Sirius shrugged, “Don’t get irritated with me, I can’t help it if your handwriting is awful. You should work on that.”

I was about to retort with a snarky response when I heard someone come bounding up the stairs to the boys’ dorm. I quickly sprung into action, sliding under Sirius’ bed before Bilius or someone could see I was in here.

In no time, the dorm room door burst open. It was one of the first years, and he was breathless. “You lot have got to come downstairs. Quickly.” Then he turned and ran off.

I crawled out from my hiding spot, and we all exchanged worried looks. “What now,” moaned Peter, as we all jumped up and rushed down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room.

The radio crackled and popped from the table, which everyone in the common room surrounded. As we came down the stairs, I was suddenly nearly flattened by the force of Lily slamming into me at full speed, wrapping her arms around me and pushing her face into my shoulder. She was shaking, and I was accosted by the full effect of the smell of her hair in my nose and the tightness of which she hugged me. James stared at us. “What’s going on?” Sirius asked, walking to where the others were all huddled.

Andy Tinnamin looked up, “There’s been another attack,” he said quietly. “The Death Eaters attacked the Bells’ funeral.”

Peter’s eyes widened, “They attacked a funeral?” He gasped.

“They had a Muggle funeral,” said Andy, “Because that’s what the Bells requested, so their Muggle friends could attend. They had loads of Muggle friends, see. Well the Death Eaters didn’t like that even in their death the Bells were defying the new order the Dark Lord’s trying to bring in, so...they attacked it.”

“Blimey,” whispered James. 

“Is everyone alright?” Remus asked worriedly.

“Dunno,” Alex answered. “We’ve only heard what the radio tells us. Somebody says they heard Derek when it first started, though, so we reckon he’s alive.”

I put my hands on Lily’s back. I could feel her spine and my skin prickled, the hairs on my forearm standing to attention. I could barely breathe, though that was likely because of how tight she was hugging me. “Are you alright?” I asked gently.

Lily shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” I offered, unsure what else to say.

“They don’t deserve this, they’re good people,” sobbed Lily.

“I agree,” I said lamely.

“Remus didn’t deserve it, either. Nobody deserves it. Why’s the Dark Lord got to be so evil?”

I swallowed nervously, “Well, that’s what Dark Lords do, isn’t it?” Out of the corner of my eyes, I spotted the look on Remus’ face as he watched the way Lily clung to me and my stomach turned for an entirely different reason.

We Gryffindors sat up half the night, surrounding the radio. Some of the younger students, the ones who didn’t know Alice and Derek as well as the others, fell asleep sprawled about the room, hung over various pieces of furniture. Bilius was sitting in the chair at the table, bleary-eyed, all night without even so much as moving or speaking. Lily clutched my hand as we sat on the floor near the fire. I put my other arm around Remus, who looked stressed and exhausted. James and Sirius had taken up a game of wizard’s chess while they waited, and Peter kept dozing off, waking up with little snorting sounds every so often. 

I was staring at Lily’s fingers twined through mine, at the shiny pink nails at the ends of her fingers. I swallowed back my nervousness. I could tell she was very nervous, too. I wanted to make her feel better but I wasn’t sure how to, so I just held her hand and tried not to think about the sidelong glances that Remus kept aiming in my direction.

9th September, 1972

It was morning before there was any news. The sun was coming in through the high windows and everyone had fallen asleep where they’d been, listening to the staticy silence of the radio, waiting to hear more. I awoke groggily, and looked around me. Bilius had even nodded off, his chin smooshed against his chest as he tipped ever so precariously forward. Suddenly, the radio crackled to life, and Bilius sat up, grabbing for the dial and turning it up.

Lily stirred at the sound of the volume of the voice coming out the speakers, and my movement woke up Remus as well. Sirius kicked James beneath the chess table and we all turned to stare at the radio.

“And update’s just come ‘cross our desk here, from the Muggle attack last night. We have confirmed that at least four Muggles and one witch was killed in the attacks: the Muggles are as of yet unidentified, though the Minister for Magic is working tirelessly to get positive identification. The witch, Alice Bell, the daughter of the late Leonard and Stella Bell, was killed on site. Witnesses of the attack say that several unidentified followers of the Dark Lord arrived at the funeral wearing dark masks that obscured their faces…”

Nothing else that was said seemed to matter or even to make sense.

I stared, dumbfounded, at the little brown radio, at the fabric-covered speakers as the words the news wizard was saying continued to come, though they blurred together and seemed not to be distinct noises in my ears anymore. In fact, there was a teensy little ringing that seemed to take over every possible sound that I could hear. Every cell in my body felt iced. Alice Bell, dead? They had to be wrong. The information was false or else they were just making it up altogether. There was no way that Alice was dead. 

Lily seemed to be even worse off, for obvious reasons. Alice was probably her best friend. She stood up, shaking. But the moment she took a step she fell, and fainted with a loud thump of her body hitting the floor.

I scooped her up as best as I could, with help from Remus. We laid her across the couch, with her head nested on my lap. Everyone had crowded around her: the four boys, Bilius, and even little Ali Fortescue.

It took about ten minutes for her to slowly open her eyes, while I carefully stroked her flaming red hair. “Lily, are you alright?” I asked.

She didn’t respond. We tried asking her a few other questions, but she seemed nearly catatonic. “I’ll take it from here.” Bilius said. He lifted her up so that she laid across his arms and carried her up to her dorm room. I didn’t notice the tears on my face until after they had fallen down my cheeks.

I balled my hands up into tight fists, running names through my mind. Hope Lupin. Leonard Bell. Stella Bell. Four Muggles. Alice Bell. They ran over and over, like a mantra. I loathed Lord Voldemort as much as I ever could.

***

This evening, in the Great Hall, Dumbledore stood up and waved his hands to silence the students of Hogwarts before we started to eat. There wasn’t a place you could go in the castle without hearing Alice’s name being whispered, low and reverently. Lily looked sick, and it was only because of my telling her she needed to eat that she came down to dinner.

Bilius looked just as pale as Lily, and Frank Longbottom stared gloomily down at the wood grain of the table, his eyes red and unfocused. Now, they, and the rest of us looked up at Dumbledore as he waited for the last of the students to quiet.

“I am sure many, if not all, of you have heard the tragic news that we have lost one of our own today,” Dumbledore said, “A third year Gryffindor by the name of Alice Bell was killed by followers of the Dark Lord.” He leaned against the little podium, his eyes glistening behind the half-moon spectacles. “Alice Bell did nothing to offend any of these men and women, who call themselves Death Eaters. Alice was a kindred spirit, with a beautiful heart, and a good word for every person she met. The reason the Death Eaters killed her was purely political and meaningless. It is this hatred of kindness, this cruelty against goodness that is why the Dark Lord must be stopped. His radical, dangerous beliefs and actions are causing his followers to act in irrational ways, killing little girls attending their parents’ funerals. It’s not right, it’s not fair, and it cannot be tolerated. I know that you are but children yourselves, but you are the generation that shall rise up from the current one’s ashes: you are the ones who will defeat Voldemort. You are the ones who can grow up with tolerance and decency. Blood, no matter how pure or impure it may be, is too precious to spill!” 

He slammed his fist onto the podium, making several of us jump. “We cannot let Voldemort win. We just cannot.”

Dumbledore took a deep breath and clutched the sides of the podium. I spotted a silver tear streak across his face, from those brilliant blue eyes and into the whiskers that framed his face. He stared up at the candles floating above us, at the enchanted ceiling where the stars above Hogwarts reflected brilliantly bright. He paused for a moment, and then turned and took the goblet from his place at the staff table, turning back to us. Dumbledore waved his arm in a sweeping arch and all across the hall, goblets appeared at the tables before us. He raised his goblet to the air, and we all lifted ours as well.

Sirius stood on his bench, and James followed suit. Soon nearly all of us Gryffindors were standing. Frank Longbottom’s hand shook as he lifted his high above his head. Peter nearly spilled his, but caught it at just the last moment. Remus grabbed hold of my hand, and I glanced at the pale white of his knuckles as I squeezed tight and then looked back to Dumbledore.

The only students not in tears by now were the Slytherins, who were only half-heartedly raising their goblets. Some, like Narcissa Black, hadn’t touched theirs at all. Severus Snape looked quite uncomfortable, as though he was debating whose example to follow. He began to reach for his goblet, but Narcissa’s glare stopped him. I shook my head in frustration at his disrespect.

Dumbledore looked out over the hall, at the raised glasses and he said, “To Alice Bell, the first of this generation whose life has been lost to the cause of defiance against the Dark Lord.”

“To Alice!” Shouted Bilius, his voice echoing off the walls of the Great Hall.

“To Alice,” murmured the majority of the Hogwarts student body.

“To Alice,” said Dumbledore, and he drained the goblet.


	8. 16th and 22nd September, 1972

16th September, 1972

Things were quite sombre around Hogwarts after the death of Alice Bell. It was as though the seriousness of the threat of the Dark Lord had struck too close to home for many of us, and we finally understood why it was so serious that Voldemort was out there somewhere. Before Alice had been killed, there had been no real reason to believe in the existence of a war from within the safety of the walls of Hogwarts. Even those who knew perfectly well that there was a threat hadn’t believed it would ever touch their lives, especially the purebloods. But Alice had been a pureblood, and yet her blood had been spilled the same as any Muggleborn or half-blood might’ve been.

Remus seemed to be spending a lot more time with Lily, as well. She was acting extremely isolative, only really speaking with either one of us. She also seemed to be spending a lot more late nights studying with him.

It got even weirder ‘round the Gryffindor common room, when today, which is about a week after the news of Alice’s death, Derek returned to school. He looked a mess, thinner and paler than any of us remembered him being. Bilius had seen his trunk arrive in their dorm and was meeting him in the Entrance Hall. 

When the two arrived through the portrait hole, most everyone in the house was sitting in the common room, waiting for his return. “Let him through, let him through...all of you sod off, you’ve got classes and homework you ought to be doing, let the man breathe,” Bilius commanded, waving away all of us Gryffindors that stared on eagerly as Derek, sopping wet from the heavy autumn rain that was falling outside, made his way up the stairs to the seventh years’ dormitory.

“How’s he doing?” I asked Bilius quietly. But he only shrugged in reply and hurried on after Derek.

22nd September, 1972

Remus was going to the Shrieking Shack today, as the first full moon of term came. He shoved a couple of textbooks into his bookbag and slung it over his shoulder the night he was to leave. We were all in the boys’ dorm, and I was helping Peter make flash cards to study spells from Charms while James was laying across his bed with Sirius, looking at a broom catalog that had come in by owl. We were all focused, when Remus cleared his throat. We all four looked up. “I’m about to go,” Remus informed us.

Sirius said, “I’m sorry we can’t go with you, mate.”

“Believe me, I’m sorry too,” Remus said with a heavy sigh. He fiddled with the strap of his bag, then puffed out his cheeks and said, “Although...I am glad that somebody will be here for Lily if she needs anything,” he added.

James frowned and his eyes moved back down to the catalog on his lap.

“And you will all check on her, right, while I’m gone?”

“Sure, of course,” I replied, saluting.

“Cos she’s really upset still,” Remus reminded us.

“We know,” James replied, “Everybody in the bloody school knows. She’s worse than Moaning Myrtle on the second floor. Always moping about…”

“Well her best friend died, James,” Remus reminded him sharply, “That’s to be expected, isn’t it?”

James shrugged.

“Wouldn’t you be moping about if it was Sirius who was killed?” I shot at him, angrily.

“Oi,” exclaimed Sirius, “Why’s it got to be me that’s gone and been offed here?”

“Because you’re his best friend,” Remus answered.

“Still...off one of yourselves, not me,” Sirius said back.

“Alright then,” I sighed in frustration, “James, wouldn’t you be complaining and moping about all over if it was any of the four of us that’d been offed?”

James’ eyes flickered ever so slightly toward Peter for just a fraction of a moment. Peter didn’t notice. James replied, “I wouldn’t be annoying the whole damn school.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “You really are very immature, you know that?”

James shrugged and turned back to his broom catalog, flipping the page so angrily that it tore a little bit. “Reparo,” he muttered frustrated.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright James?” Remus snapped, “I’m sorry she prefers me more than she prefers you. For Merlin’s sake, I can’t help it. But maybe if you weren’t so...so...so ridiculous about things then she would like you.”

James looked up, his gaze cold. “What things am I ridiculous about?”

“You’re immature and arrogant and you don’t think about anybody else’s feelings except your own,” Remus said, spelling it out. He took a deep breath, then shook his head, “You know what, no. If you don’t know on your own what you do, then there’s nothing telling you is going to do to change anything about it.” He headed for the door. “Sabrina, will you please be the one who checks on Lily for me? She seems to trust you, and James doesn’t know how to have sympathy for someone besides himself.”

James looked truly angry now, “Go howl at the moon, wolf.”

Now, we’d said things like that in fun dozens of times since we had found out about Remus’ condition, but the way the word wolf rolled from James’ tongue in that moment was offensive. The label came off his lips the same way that Mudblood might have come from a Slytherin. It was meant as a put down, meant to be scathing. James had used the word to make Remus feel as though he were somehow less. And the look on his face right after he’d said it clearly meant that he was sorry. It was a stunned sort of sick look about his eyes. “I didn’t mean that,” he stammered quickly.

Remus turned and hurried out the door without saying anything.

Peter, Sirius and I were staring at James in shock. “Wow, James…” muttered Peter, “That wasn’t right.”

“Aw, bloody hell! James, don’t be such a damn prat!” I jumped up and went after Remus.

***

I caught up to him in the Entrance Hall. I grabbed Remus’ elbow, stopping him just before he reached the bottom of the staircase. “Wait. Re.”

Remus shook me off and turned around, “I can’t believe he said that to me,” he said.

“I can’t believe it, either. I can tell he didn’t mean it.” I pleaded, “He doesn’t care about what you are.”

“Obviously, on some level, he does,” Remus answered bitterly.

“He really doesn’t, none of us do. Please, Remus, we are here for you. I’m here for you.”

“I know James fancies Lily, and he’s jealous of the attention she’s been giving me.”

I pursed my lips. “You’re not wrong there.”

Remus sighed. He sank down on the stair and rubbed his forehead as I sank down next to him, leaning forward to stare into Remus’ face. After taking a moment, likely to collect his thoughts, Remus said, “I know you mean well, but thankfully you’ve never been through this: this feeling of loss, I mean.” Remus looked over at me, “Lily doesn’t need James making her feel bad for being upset about it. That only makes it worse because trying to be jolly when you aren’t is the worst. I know.”

I asked, “Is that what you’ve been doing, then?”

Remus’ face broke into a sad little smile. “It’s what I’ve done all my life.”

“I’m so sorry.” I said quietly.

“It’s alright,” Remus said, “It’s just that I’m quite used to how it feels to be alone and sad,” he gestured toward the pale light coming in the windows. “I know what it’s like too well.”

“I wish you didn’t,” I said.

Remus shrugged.

I looked up at the moon and asked, “Are you...you know...the whole time, or just when it’s dark?”

Remus shifted, taking a deep breath, “Well I mean, once I...I...you know,” he glanced around, and breathed the words, “go wolf,” he licked his lips, “Well, you don’t really go back until after the cycle’s ended. Just, you can kind of remember yourself a bit during the day, you know? You can control the instincts a bit better. I usually sleep then. It’s the nights that are a real tosser. You lose your mind, lose all control.” He ran his hands over the scars and marks on his forearms.

I said, “Maybe we could come and visit you. During the day, I mean.”

Remus shook his head, “No,” he said firmly.

“Why not?” I asked, “You said it yourself you have control and we could at least keep you company. Maybe we could do some homework or something and…” I smiled, “And we could bring you food, so you wouldn’t be such a mess when you get back and--”

“No, Sabrina,” Remus said, “If I ever lost control...I’d never forgive myself.”

I let the idea drop, for the time being at least.

Remus stood up, “I best be going.”

I stood up, too, “Alright,” I said. “I’ll talk to James about Lily. I’ll check on her often.”

“I appreciate it,” Remus said.

I nodded. “Of course.” Remus started down the stairs, before a question formed in my head. 

“Do you fancy her?” I blurted out without much thought.

Remus hesitated for a moment, before turning ‘round to look at me. “Who wouldn’t?” He asked.

I nodded, accepting that answer. “Well. I think fancies you back. Good on you, mate.” There was a bitterness that formed in my stomach, for some reason. On the one hand, I was fabulously happy that Lily and Remus seemed to have a chemistry. But there was, at the same time, a feeling of being stabbed with a rather sharp blade. I shook that feeling away.

Remus smiled a little smile. “Thanks,” He said, and he headed down the stairs, into the Entrance Hall.


	9. 23rd September, 1972

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speedy_Typhoon asks, "Ooh spicy, is she jealous of Remus or Lily?"
> 
> Hmmmmmmm....I'll never tell ;)

I woke up this morning at the same time that Lily was putting her robes on. She heard my movement and gave me a smile laced with sadness. “Morning.”

“Morning.” I said, smiling back and hopping out of bed. “Come to breakfast with me, you look like you can use some company.” 

“Alright.” she replied, as I began to get ready. I wanted to keep my promise to Remus to keep an eye on her.

As we came down the stairs from our dorm, Peter, James and Sirius were hanging about. “What are you lot up to?” Lily asked suspiciously when they followed us down the corridor.

“Just going to breakfast,” replied Sirius casually.

“Like any other day,” added James.

“While keeping an eye out for you,” Peter tacked on. The other two glowered at him. “I mean, I...it...I--”

“Keeping an eye on me?” Lily asked, stopping short so that Peter, still stammering, nearly slammed into her. “What’re you keeping an eye on me for?” she demanded.

Sirius said, “Well you’re upset, aren’t you? We’re just being here for you,” he said, emphasising the concept. “Making sure you know you aren’t alone and all that, so you know you’ve got a couple shoulders to lean on if you need ‘em.”

“Six extra shoulders, to be exact,” James chimed in, “Two each! That’s quite a lot of shoulders to cry on! You should consider yourself very lucky.”

Lily glowered at him a moment, then turned to Sirius and Peter, “I am quite alright, thank you, I needn’t any shoulders… much less six,” she added, her gaze returning to meet James’.

“Well, they’re here if you change your mind,” said Sirius.

“All six of ‘em!” James added.

“I won’t need them. C’mon, Sabrina,” she said, starting back off down the corridor again. I turned to the boys and stuck my tongue out sarcastically. “Don’t be so forced, you dolts!” I snickered, before catching up to Lily.

Once we had gotten down to the Great Hall, Lily and I had about five seconds of privacy before the three others lined up across the table from us, all watching Lily like a hawk. I facepalmed, why are they treating her like an egg about to hatch?

Lily, hoping to get them to stop staring, asked “Where’s Remus, by the way?”

“An excellent question that I think quite a lot of people would rather like to know,” came a voice from behind me. I turned around and there was Severus Snape, arms crossed over his chest. He was glaring very harshly at James, who was glaring just as harshly back.

“What business is it of yours where Remus is?” James asked Snape hotly.

“Sev!” cried Lily in surprise before he could answer James’ inquiry, “Whatever are you doing over here at the Gryffindor table? I thought this was forbidden territory for you?” her voice carried just a hint of sarcasm.

Severus took a deep breath, “I need to talk to you. Can you come with me please?”

Lily shrugged, “Why don’t you talk to me here?”

“It’s a private matter,” Severus said lowly, glancing at the boys and I.

Lily replied, “Well I’m busy, Sev, I’ve got important things to do that will keep me busy for some time. You know what it’s like...it’s just like you were all summer. I’ll talk to you when I’m able.” She turned back to the table and lifted up her toast.

I smirked, quite proud of her standing up to him.

“Lily, come off it. I wasn’t at home,” Severus said, “It’s not my fault you’ve barely got any other friends!”

Lily’s eyebrows knit together. 

Severus sighed, “That came out wrong, I know. I’m sorry. But Lily, will you come talk to me, please?” He reached for her shoulder and she shrugged him off. “Lily, please.”

I rolled my eyes, “Severus, she said she’s busy and she’ll talk to you later.”

Severus shot a glare at me, but ignored me and reached out for Lily’s shoulder a second time. “Lil, c’mon.”

“Stop it, Sev, I’m not interested in what you’ve got to say right now, alright?” Lily snapped.

Severus reached once again for her, “Lily, please, I--” but before he could finish the sentence, James hit him with a poorly-executed version of Lily’s Bat Bogey Hex. Severus stumbled backwards from the strike and tumbled into a Hufflepuff girl that had been walking by carrying a bowl of oatmeal. The cereal went flying into the air, splashing over a Ravenclaw who shouted an obscenity rather loudly, so that it echoed through the Great Hall. As Severus landed on the flagstone floor, his nose bursting with winged bogeys, every head in the massive room turned ‘round to see the commotion. Oatmeal oozed off the front of the Ravenclaw boy as the Hufflepuff hastened to repair the shattered bowl and James loomed triumphantly over Severus Snape. The bogeys were fluttering out of his nose and bouncing off his cheeks, all green and slimy-looking.

“What did you do that for?” Lily squealed at James, “For Merlin’s sake, can’t you control yourself?”

James started to defend himself, “He was bothering you and I--”

But Severus had leaped up from the floor and aimed his wand back at James. “Everte statum,” he said. The spell hit James, interrupting him mid-sentence, and threw him backward as though someone had shoved him hard against the chest. His back hit the Gryffindor table and he tripped over it, somersaulting to the other side, where he landed on the stone floor.

“Stop it!” Lily cried.

Severus and James were both up on their feet again in a moment, facing one another across the table. I climbed over the table and raised my wand to defend my friend, but Severus was quicker. “Impedimenta.” I was suddenly unable to move, my look of anger frozen across my face, and my wand half-raised. The same happened to Sirius shortly after.

“Rictusempra!” said James, causing Severus to begin to giggle and laugh uncontrollably so hard that he doubled over and clutched his sides. “What’s so funny, Snivellus?” asked James in a mocking tone.

Severus barely managed to squeeze the word “Singulato,” out amongst the laughter, but he did it and James broke out in violent hiccups. But hiccups, no matter how violent, were not about to stop a Gryffindor, and James chucked his wand aside and went at Severus Snape with his fists.

“Stop it! Stop it!” Lily cried.

Suddenly, hers was not the only voice protesting. Professor Flitwick had thrown himself into the flurry as Severus aimed his wand in response to the punches James was throwing at him. Flitwick only just dodged a spell cast by Severus when James’ fist knocked him ‘round the ears. Quite fed up with the both of them, he set off a bang from his wand that knocked them both backward in surprise, Severus still giggling uncontrollably from the floor as James hiccuped. “Finite incantatem!” Flitwick said and the giggling and hiccuping stopped. Sirius and I also unfroze and shook off the Impedimenta Jinx. James and Severus lay sprawled on the floor on either side of Flitwick, both panting, trying to catch their breath.

Peter bent down and picked James’ wand up from the floor, a grim look on his face as he clutched James’ wand as well as his own.

“I never,” gasped Flitwick, quite offended. He looked between the two boys, “This is utterly ridiculous! Up with the both of you!” He looked about and spotted the Fat Friar, the ghost of Hufflepuff house. “You there, Friar!” He called. The Friar looked over. “Inform Professors McGonagall and Slughorn that I’ll be needing their assistance in my office, if you would, please. I’ve got some students of theirs they’ll be needing to collect.” He scowled, “Now, both of you, come with me.”

“But I was just defending Lily!” James protested, “Snape was pushing her ‘round!”

“Then she should have gotten a member of the faculty to assist her!” Flitwick answered, “There was no call to start dueling in the Great Hall. And fighting like a Muggle! My God boy...are you a wizard or aren’t you?” with a sigh, Flitwick motioned for James and Severus to follow him up to his office.

James looked helplessly back at us as he left the room, following after Flitwick and Snape. “Good luck,” Sirius mouthed at him.

Peter still held James’ wand in his fist.

Lily was pink around the face. I stared after them, still disoriented from the charm Snape had cast upon me. “Well, they’ll be in a load of hot water, I reckon,” I said.

“It serves them right, the both of them,” Lily said, rolling her eyes, “And at breakfast, too.” She sat back down with a huff. 

The biggest casualty, it seemed, was the bowl of oatmeal the Hufflepuff had spoiled, and a couple of pieces of french toast that had fallen on the floor when James went skidding across the table.

As I sat down once more by Lily, I noticed that she wasn’t touching her food, as if she’d lost her appetite. Lily stood up and grabbed her book bag. “I’m going to head to the library.” She started to turn to go, then paused and turned back to us. “Where did you say Remus was?” she asked.

Sirius shrugged, “I dunno,” he lied. “He’s about someplace, I’m sure. Maybe he’s having a lie-in.”

Lily frowned. A nervous pit formed in my stomach as she clearly didn’t believe Sirius. But she sighed. “Well, when you do see him, tell him I was looking for him, will you?”

Sirius nodded, “We’ll tell him the moment we see him.” 

I watched Lily walk off for a moment, then turned to Sirius and Peter with a sigh, “Well that went peachy.”

Peter looked up from the french toast he was now stuffing into his mouth. “What did?” He asked, mouth full.

“Nothing, Pete. Just eat your breakfast,” I replied. I hoped the toast Peter was eating wasn’t the same ones that had fallen onto the floor. I didn’t dare to look...I figured some things were probably best left unknown.

***

It was nearly lunch before James had made his way back up to Gryffindor tower. He threw his book bag onto the floor as he stepped through the portrait hole and laid down on the couch. Sirius and I were cosied up on the carpet, going through the broom catalog from before. “How’d it go?” asked Peter from a table, where he was studying his Charms notes.

“I’ve got loads of detention,” James replied in a monotone, staring up at the ceiling. He sighed and put his arms up behind his head. “McGonagall was furious.”

“Sorry mate,” said Sirius, “But at least you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing ol’ Snivelly’s getting detention, too, right?”

James sighed his heaviest yet. “I would, except he isn’t getting any.”

“What?” I said, sitting up and nearly knocking Sirius off me by accident. “Why on earth would he not get any detention? Is Slughorn that soft?”

James answered, “Well according to Slughorn, fighting one another and dueling isn’t a horrible thing; he was excited to hear the play-by-play, rather, and Severus left Flitwick’s office right chummy with him before McGonagall ever got near the palace.”

I groaned. “So very soft.”

“Then McGonagall shows up and you know how stern she can be. She gave me The Look and goes off on me about dueling etiquette and the like, telling me how big a disgrace to Gryffindor I am, and the long and short of it is I’ve got bloody detention tonight and tomorrow night while Severus gets off!”

“Well that ain’t fair!” Protested Sirius, “Did you tell McGonagall?” James nodded. “What did she say?”

James rolled his eyes, “Said punishment for the Slytherins is up to the Slytherin head of house, and if that’s the sort of discipline Slughorn wanted to give his students, that’s his prerogative, but that she, head of Gryffindor house, wasn’t about to let me off so easily!” James had mimicked McGonagall’s clipped accent so well that Peter laughed, his pudgy cheeks puffed like a little chipmunk.

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Merlin’s beard! They need to regulate that sort of thing!”

James shrugged, “Well they haven’t yet. So it looks as though I’ll be getting a sore elbow cleaning off old trophies in the trophy room while Severus is off doing whatever his greasy heart desires.” He rolled over and punched the cushion, curling his knees up to his chest, seeming quite finished with talking about Severus Snape.

Snape getting off scot-free for harassing Lily didn’t seem right in my book.


	10. 24th September, 1972

I hurried to the portrait hole, quite excited with what I had planned. I wanted to borrow a book from the Restricted Section of the library, and James was nice enough to lend me his invisibility cloak to obtain it. I had the cloak folded and tucked into my robes until I got to the library.

As I opened the portrait hole, I saw Severus Snape jump back from the swinging painting. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were out here!” I said, to be polite. It was the truth after all.”I wouldn’t have swung the portrait open so hard if I had...did I hit you?”

“No,” Snape replied dryly, turning to face me.

I narrowed my eyes, “You know, you aren’t supposed to be lurking ‘round our common room.”

The Fat Lady grinned from her portrait, “I was just telling him that! I’m so proud, so proud!”

Severus glared at the Fat Lady, and he looked back to me. “Could you get Lily for me? I need her and this one’s giving me a hard time about waiting for her out here.” 

“What do you want her for?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“I need to talk to her,” Severus answered. I held my suspicious gaze, and he sighed, “It’s not like I’m going to hurt her, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Lily’s not at your beck and call, you know,” I said plainly. “She’s probably busy.”

Snape groaned with frustration, “Listen, I don’t have time for you, Stratford, I just want to speak to-”

Suddenly, the girl in question popped through the portrait hole. “Lily,” Snape breathed.

Lily’s eyes weren’t the sparkling masterpieces they usually were, though. She walked up quite angrily and stopped before him, glowering. “What do you want?” She asked, her voice hard. 

I smirked, staying right where I was behind Lily, backing her up.

Snape said lowly, “I need to talk to you, it’s important.” He glanced at me. “Alone,” he added.

Lily turned to look at me. “Go on, Sabrina.”

“You sure?” I asked, concerned.

“Yeah,” Lily answered, “I’m alright. Go one.”

I nodded and walked away. Once I turned down the end of the corridor, however, I deftly slipped on the invisibility cloak. I didn’t want to leave Lily alone with that kind of person. He seemed to be hell-bent on speaking with her. Call me nosy, but I was curious as to what about.

I snuck back toward the duo and hid behind a suit of armour, just in case the illusion of the cloak wasn’t as strong in the daytime. Luckily, I could still get a decent view through the silky sheen of the cloak.

“What do you want?” Lily demanded.

“Well, I haven’t seen you in some time and--” Severus began, but Lily cut him off.

“Whose fault is that?”

Snape frowned. “It wasn’t my fault, Lily.”

Lily hesitated, before folding her arms over her chest.

Snape sighed. “Aren’t we friends still, Lily?” He asked. His voice was sad and hollow, and for a fleeting moment I felt sorry for him. 

“Of course we are, Sev,” said Lily, the cold edge to her voice melting down, “I’m just cross, that’s all, and truly busy and there’s a lot going on this term...with Alice Bell dying and everything…”

Severus muttered, “You’ve got the time to be around Remus Lupin.”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Snape shrugged, “Just that you’ve been talking to him, that’s all. They say you fancy him.” His voice had a jealous edge to it.

“Maybe,” Lily said hesitantly, “I don’t know.” I didn’t realise that she had officially fancied Remus until that moment. It was quite weird to think of, Lily Evans, fancying a boy! But I could see it in her face that it was true.

Severus looked jealously green. “I thought that--” he stopped.

“Thought what?” Lily asked, touching her cheek to feel the heat that had risen up there.

“Nothing,” replied Snape. “It’s just, I’d be careful about him if I were you,” he said. “There’s something funny about him.”

“Something funny about him?” Lily echoed, “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean he’s twitchy,” Snape said, “Kind of dodgy. Like he’s got a secret. I saw him and Sabrina Stratford up to no good down in the Entrance Hall two nights ago, sneaking about. Lupin’s been missing since. If you ask me, that’s suspicious.” He must be referring to when I followed after Remus after James had said that nasty comment. My blood grew cold at Snape’s suspicions. If he found out about Remus’ lycanthropy, there’s no doubt he would spill it to the whole school. I shivered at the thought of Remus’ fate then.

Lily seemed to be thinking about what Snape said. But she didn’t voice her thoughts. “Come off it, Sev, you just don’t like the other Gryffindors.”

Severus scowled. “No, you’re right, I don’t like them. Especially Potter, he’s a git. But you’ve got to admit he was overly defensive about where Lupin’s at, don’t you think? Starting a duel all because I asked a question.”

“Actually you started the duel,” Lily replied.

Snape’s eyes widened. “No. He hexed me first!”

“You were being pushy,” Lily answered.

Snape glowered. “I just wanted to talk to you. You were being stubborn.”

“You were insisting on interrupting my breakfast!” Lily replied.

“There’s no other time I could’ve come over,” Severus answered.

“Because of limitations you put on our friendship. Really, Sev, it’s not like I’m hard to find. If I’m not here in the tower or in the Great Hall, there’s a safe bet I’m in the library. You could come talk to me anytime, you could catch me up after Potions. We could hang out on the grounds or take a walk together ‘round the castle. There’s a hundred places and ways you could come talk to me. But you only want to talk to me when it’s convenient for you. What about what’s convenient for me?”

“I have repeatedly explained to you about the Slytherins and their prejudices,” Severus said. “I can’t just walk over to talk to you when they’re all watching. I will be shunned from my own house.”

Lily replied, “Well maybe I’ll be shunned from mine for being around you, too.”

“You won’t,” Snape replied.

“Did you ever stop to think if the Slytherins are that awful about who you’re friends with then maybe having them shun you wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world?”

“You don’t get it!” Severus said.

Lily shrugged. “I gotta go, Sev.”

“Wait,” he said, jumping to grab hold onto her wrist to stop her. It took me everything I had to not jump out from the cloak and hex him to oblivion. “Wait. I...I miss you, Lily. Can’t we make this work out?”

Lily shrugged, “Dunno, Sev. Can we?” She pulled her wrist away. “You’ve got to make a better effort if you want to be friends. I can’t always be going out of my way. I wasted my whole summer waiting for you ‘round our little pond and you never came. I’m sick of waiting ‘round for you, Severus.” 

Severus looked like a deflated balloon. “I’ve done stuff for you, too, you know. I risked my neck showing you magic before you knew you were magic. Made my mum right angry, me going to see a Muggle girl all the time before you got your Hogwarts letter. She still doesn’t approve, you being a Mudblood and all.”

“Stop calling me that,” Lily said. “I hate that word. Voldemort uses that word. Him and his followers.”

Severus’ eyes flashed. “How would you know what words the Dark Lord uses?” 

Lily sighed. It was clear that she was uncomfortable talking about that night we went into the Forbidden Forest, and I didn’t blame her. “My point is, just don’t call me that anymore. I don’t care if that’s the word everybody uses for Muggleborns, I just don’t like it, alright?” Lily asked, eyeing Severus.

He nodded, albeit hesitantly.

Somewhere in the castle, a clock chimed the hour and Lily shifted her feet. “I need to go work on my homework. I have an essay due in Transfiguration I haven’t even started yet.”

Severus nodded again.

“Was that everything you wanted to talk about?” Lily asked.

Snape said, “I just wanted to talk to you. It wasn’t really about anything.”

“Alright,” Lily said, “Well. Like I said. You know where to find me.” She shrugged, “I’ll see you around, Severus.”

“See you around,” he answered.

Lily walked off down the corridor, and Snape watched. My heart nearly stopped as he glanced over at the suit of armour I was hiding behind. How on earth did he sense my presence?  
He took a few steps closer, and I wanted to just shrivel into a hole. His piercing gaze is one I’m not exactly fond of being on the receiving end of. After a minute, though, he shook his head and stalked off down the corridor.

***

That evening, I was packing my things up in the common room. I had finished all of my homework, when suddenly James burst through the portrait hole. He looked out of breath

“Have fun in detention? What’d they have you do, run a marathon?” I sarcastically said with a smirk.

“Meet...me...inmydorm!” James wheezed out, before he sprinted up the stairs.” I raised my eyebrow, and continued packing.

As I slung my book bag over my shoulder, I began to climb the stairs when I heard, “Sabrina! Wait just a minute, I need to speak to you.”

I stopped short on the second stair at the sound of Lily’s voice calling for me. I turned ‘round and there she was, coming over, a determined look in her eyes. She stopped at the foot of the stairs. “What’s up, Lily?” I asked, worried at what she was going to ask about.

“I need to talk to you...about Remus.”

I grew anxious, frowning. “What about Remus?” I asked, trying to act as natural as possible.

“Well…” she took a deep breath, then leaned closer, conspiratorially, “I know about his secret.”

My mouth went rather dry. I glanced around at the others in the common room, then back at Lily. Had she gone to the library and done research since I last saw her? “You do, do you?” I asked carefully.

Lily nodded. “And I know you know, too.”

I didn’t want to confirm or deny. I didn’t know where she was going with this. I didn’t want to accidentally rat out Remus when he’d put his confidence in the four of us. I stayed quiet and simply shrugged indifferently.

“I know he’s leaving the castle,” Lily whispered, “And I know Dumbledore’s in on it, too.”

I remained silent.

“Where does he go?” Lily asked.

I thought for a moment. “Didn’t he tell you himself?” He asked, trying to figure a way around answering her. “If he didn’t tell you, then...I can’t really tell you myself. You’ll have to ask him.”

“But Sabrina, I think he’s...he’s rather shy, talking about it,” Lily wheedled.

“Yeah, but can you blame him?” I asked. “I would be, too.”

Lily nodded, though she looked a bit less confused, “Yeah, I s’pose.”

The look on her face told me that she didn’t exactly know, and I was pleased that I hadn’t said much of anything. I decided to warn Remus and the others that Lily was suspicious but she certainly didn’t know anywhere near as much as she wanted him to believe. A cool sweat sprouted on the back of my neck.

“Look, Lily, I have to go. Talk to Remus yourself.” I turned and sprinted up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories, leaving her behind quickly. I didn’t even turn back when she called my name again. I didn’t dare look at her, afraid I’d blurt out all the secrets I’d ever had if she asked me to.

Besides, I was really curious about what James was up to.

I pushed open the dorm room door and there was Sirius, Peter, and James, sprawled across the floor. They looked up as I entered and saw the triumphantly excited look on James’ face. “So what’s up, mate?” I asked.

“There you are,” James breathed in relief, “You won’t ever believe what I found,” James announced.


	11. 26th September, 1972 (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Um. Hello. I've been a terrible author lately. I've been so consumed with my final exams, and by the time I was done with them I did an insane amount of work on this story. So now I've actually written up until October of 3rd year, can you believe it! Serious stuff goes down between here and then. Soooooo, I've been neglecting my lovely readers, and for that I apologise. I'll now be consistently uploading a new chapter every other day. This, I PROMISE! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has stuck with the series so far :)

If we had trouble all fitting beneath the invisibility cloak at the end of our first year, it was considerably harder now in our second. The five of us had jammed ourselves together in a tight knot of legs and arms beneath the cloak, but only just barely. It was a feat complicated even further by James’ broomstick and Peter’s substantial weight again. We crept through the dark corridors of Hogwarts to the Trophy Room.

What James had told us about was a secret passage he found while cleaning off trophies during detention. Beneath a portrait of a famous beater, there was a dark corridor, with a deep pit that he wanted to try and fly over to investigate.

It’s been several days after his detentions; Remus was back from the Shrieking Shack, and he and James had thankfully made up. Sirius could be held off no longer from his eagerness to explore the passageway. It had taken all of our resolve to keep Sirius waiting until Remus had returned, he’d been so excited to see it for himself. James told me he’d kept him up half the night asking questions about the passageway: everything from where James reckoned it led to what it smelled like inside. But every detail that James could share wasn’t enough to fill Sirius’ insatiable need for adventure.

We’d spent a healthy amount of time discussing what might be in the depths of the pit, too. “Perhaps it’s a dragon,” Sirius had said, wide-eyed with excitement. Peter had been quite frightened at the thought of a dragon inhabiting the depths of the castle and claimed Dumbledore would never let a dragon set foot on the grounds. To which I pointed out he’d allowed a werewolf in, so where was the line to be drawn?

The moment Remus returned, Sirius had bullied him into agreeing to go to the passageway the very next night. He’s tried for the same night, but Remus was far too exhausted and flat out refused.

James pulled the invisibility cloak off us as we entered the Trophy Room, tucking it carefully into his book bag. Sirius instantly walked across the room, right up to the empty frame that encased the Beater, Brutus Scrimgeour’s portrait. He stared up at it with a look of hunger in his eyes. I, too, inspected the empty portrait. Remus, meanwhile, had gone to look about at the medals and trophies, as Peter twitched by the door. “Did you hear that?” he asked, pale.

“Nope,” I replied shortly, as James joined Sirius and I. “Think the password’ll work if he’s not here to open the passageway?” I asked.

“Dunno, don’t see why not,” James answered.

Remus said, “There’s quite a lot of interesting awards in these cases.”

“We’re going to get caught,” Peter chimed in.

“We aren’t going to get caught, Peter,” Sirius said, and he turned to look at Remus, “And seriously, mate, who gives a load about the trophies when there’s a secret passageway?”

Remus chuckled and joined Sirius, James and I before the portrait. “C’mon, Peter,” he called.

“Yeah, don’t wanna get left behind, do you?” James chided.

Sirius smirked. “Would that really be a bad thing if he did?” To which I elbowed him in the side. 

When Peter had joined us, I looked to James expectantly, “Alright, let ‘er rip.”

James cleared his throat, “Beati Pacifici!”

The portrait swung upward, revealing a gaping tunnel beyond, leading off into darkness. My eyes were quite wide. “Bloody hell,” I whispered.

“Told you,” James said.

Remus held his wand up and we followed suit so that all five wand tips touched. “Lumos,” we said together. Or, nearly together. Peter was a bit slow and sounded more like a little echo. Our wands illuminated, and we all grinned at one another. “Here we go,” said James, and without further prolonging, he stepped into the tunnel. “Careful for pits,” he reminded us and we murmured our recollection and followed along as James led the way, carefully watching for the blue glow of the everlasting flames that he had said surrounded the pit.

“There it is,” James said, as we came down the last steps of a little flight of stairs. “Brutus Scrimgeor said there was more than one pit, but this is as far as I made it last time.”

Sirius and I inched closer to the edge and we held our wands up, staring down. I couldn’t see a thing down there, the glow of our wands seeming to be eaten alive by the darkness below. “It’s like it goes on forever,” Sirius whispered.

“It very well could,” Peter squeaked, “I’ve heard of pits like that, pits that go all the way to the centre of the earth and you burn alive for all eternity there!” He looked right terrified, his eyes wide, “That’s what volcanoes are, you know. That’s where the fire comes from!”

I rolled my eyes at how wrong he was.

Remus was inspecting the stuff hanging up on the walls. “Look at this, you guys,” he called over his shoulder. We hurried over to look at what Remus had found. It was an old photograph of a group of Hogwarts students from perhaps twenty years prior, clustered together in front of the old tree in the courtyard.

James pointed, “There’s Brutus Scrimgeour.” The boy was heavyset with dark eyes and a Gryffindor scarf wrapped tightly about his neck, his nose pink from a wind that made his scarf flutter as he blinked up at us from the picture.

“Blimey, is that McGonagall?” asked Sirius, also pointing. The girl he was pointing at had long hair that flowed about her shoulders in loose waves and strong arms that held her broom. She grinned up at us as she laughed happily, arm slung around a boy who was dressed in the pads of a Keeper. 

“This lot appears to be the Gryffindor Quidditch team,” I said, counting up the players to find there were seven.

James stared at the picture with reverence. “Scrimgeour said he and his friends used to come down here all the time. You reckon these are those friends?”

“Why else would somebody hang the photo of the Quidditch team up down here?” I asked.

“Maybe they’re fans of Quidditch,” suggested Peter.

“McGonagall must know about the tunnel then,” James concluded. “Wonder if she figured out I found it? Seems she would’ve said something if she had, when she found me talking to Scrimgeour. Doesn’t it?”

I had a feeling that maybe she wouldn’t have and the thought of her keeping our secret made me like her much more than I had before. She suddenly seemed much less uptight. Maybe McGonagall was secretly more like us than she let on after all. 

“There’s loads of interesting things in here,” Remus said. “There’s a map of the tunnel over here. Look, it shows all the pits. It looks like this goes down to the fourth floor,” he added, illuminating a parchment with hand-drawn details of the passageway. He reached for the tack and loosened the map from the wall, “This will be dead useful,” he explained.

“Does it say what’s in the pits?” asked Peter, voice tremulous.

“No,” answered Remus.

“What if there really is a dragon down there?” Peter whispered.

Remus raised an eyebrow, amused, “A dragon?” he looked at James, Sirius and I, “Which one of you doffers told him that there was a dragon down there?” I shrugged and pointed to Sirius.

Sirius grinned sheepishly. “We were only joking about that, Peter, nobody would ever dream of trying to keep a dragon in the bottom of a pit. Imagine the chains that it would take to keep it down?”

“They say there’s one in Gringotts,” I said.

“That’s got to be a load of tosh,” Sirius answered, “Dragons breathe fire, he’d just burn the bank up and fly off.”

“I s’pose,” I mused. 

Remus was studying the map closely, his wand raised as he hunched over it, but James was rather sick of standing around in the dark. “Let’s get across this thing.” He said and he quickly mounted his broom. “C’mon, Sirius,” he said, “I’ll fly you over first.”

Sirius climbed on the back of James’ broom and hung on as James lifted off and flew over the pit’s mouth. After depositing Sirius on the other side, he did the same for me, and flew back ‘round to collect Peter. Peter’s fingers dug into the fabric of James’ robes rather tightly and he shivered as the broom attempted to lift off. The weight of Peter had the broom groaning, though, and it resisted lifting too far up from the ground. “Blimey, Peter,” James muttered as the poor broom struggled to fly the short distance across, “You could do with losing a couple stone.”

As though to emphasise, the broom dipped suddenly at the last moment as they went across and Peter clutched James, squealing loudly, though they’d reached the other side just fine. He scrambled off the broom and ran several feet away, banging into the wall and falling to his bottom, where he twitched and shivered nervously. “You almost killed me,” he accused James.

“I didn’t, you’re quite alright,” James argued, landing, “You almost killed me by grabbing me ‘round my neck like that, bloody hell.” James rubbed his throat.

Remus was looking at the pit more closely. “Did you hear that?” he asked.

Peter looked up, “Dragons?” 

“Bloody hell, there’s no dragons, Peter,” James said hotly. Then he turned back to Remus, “...right?”

“There wasn’t an echo,” Remus said. “There was one from either end of the tunnel, but not one from the pit.”

“So?” I said.

“So…” Remus hesitated, then took a step forward.

“REMUS!” Sirius, James and I shouted at once as he stepped into what appeared to be the centre of the opening of the pit. Except he didn’t disappear. He didn’t fall. He simply stood there, the ankles of his robes disappearing, appearing invisible, in a false darkness. Peter literally passed out with relief and surprise.

“It isn’t a pit at all,” Remus said. “It’s a decoy.” He bent down and waved his hand ‘round in the darkness, feeling the floor beneath. “I wonder what kind of spell this is? It’s quite good magic...advanced, I’d guess.”

I felt the need to test it out and jumped into the centre of the darkness, too, laughing as I landed. “That’s rather cool, you guys should try it.”

“What happened?” Peter asked as he roused. “Is he dead? I can’t look.”

“He’s fine,” Sirius answered.

“It isn’t a pit at all,” Remus explained.

Peter’s eyebrows raised, “Woah!”

James and Sirius had joined Remus and I on the patch of mysterious darkness and began jumping about, laughing, “This is brilliant,” James said.

“C’mon Peter,” I said, “Come give it a try.”

Peter got up rather clumsily and tentatively walked over to where we stood, hesitating at the edge. He closed his eyes, squeezing them very tightly shut, and stepped forward slowly, as though he was testing water for its temperature. Feeling the solid ground beneath him, he breathed a sigh of relief, and stepped forward completely.

We played a bit with the mysterious darkness, rolling across the pit so that we disappeared entirely and Sirius did a bit where he looked as though he was walking down stairs, just slowly lowering himself til he was kneeling in the darkness and we could only see him waist up. But soon the anticipation of what might come next drew us onward and we got James’ broom and started moving on.

“This lot were brilliant,” James declared, looking at the photo of Brutus Scrimgeour and his friends. “Absolutely brilliant.”

“We’ll add them to our list of heroes, right alongside Bilius Weasley,” Sirius agreed.

“There ought to be a hall of fame of mischief makers,” James announced. “That’s the trophy they ought to award, instead of those boring Services to the School trophies. Who bloody cares that some bloke named Tom helped the school out back in the 50s? I mean come off it, nobody gives a damn about that anymore. He probably helped Filch mop the Great Hall or something.”

I laughed, “I’d rather hear about why the Great Hall needed mopping. I bet one of our mischievous hall of famers started a food fight or something.”

“A food fight in the Great Hall!” Sirius said dreamily, “Merlin’s pants, could you imagine it? It would be absolutely amazing.”

“Look!” Peter squeaked suddenly, “Another fake pit!” He pointed ahead of where more everlasting fire glowed blue in the darkness of the cave. “Last one across is a rotten egg!” And he pelted himself forward, determined to win.

“Peter, wait, don’t What if it’s really a--” Remus said, voice panicked, but he was too late, for Peter had already run pell mell, and with a shout of surprise, he tripped and disappeared over the edge of a very real pit.

“PETER!!!”

Peter seemed to teeter for the longest of seconds before actually tipping over the edge and disappearing into the darkness below, arms flailing about as he went, a look of pure shock on his face...and then, just like that, gone into the darkness. 

“PETER!” bellowed Remus, running, coming to a stop just at the edge of the pit’s gaping maw.

I seemed frozen in place.

James, however, didn’t even think twice. He ran as fast as he could, leaping over the edge and following after Peter, pure adrenaline powering him forward. “James! No! Wait!” Sirius shouted, trying and failing to catch onto James’ robes to stop him. “Ohhhh Merlin! That’s two of ‘em down there!”

I stared on, jaw dropped, unable to believe what I’d just seen. “Do we go get Dumbledore you think?” I asked, voice edging on terror. “I dunno what he’s going to do about it by the time we’d got him, they’d be splattered like bugs at the bottom. If there is a bottom. What do we do??” I asked.

Remus, for once, was utterly clueless and just stared back with a look of fear in his eyes. I wrapped my arms around Sirius, shivering. His own face was as pale as one of the house ghosts.


	12. 26th September, 1972 (Part 2)

Remus, Sirius and I had consulted the map and discovered we were closer to the exit on the fourth floor than we were the Trophy Room, and therefore decided to move ahead instead of turning around. We’d be able to get help quicker, we reckoned, because the fourth floor corridor that the map appeared to indicate we would come out on was closer to the staircases that led to the fifth floor, where Dumbledore’s office was. The pit that Peter and James had gone down was small and only took up half the passageway, so we’d carefully moved around it without any trouble, and continued on through the dark.

I felt sick to my stomach, worrying about James. I was worried about Peter, too, but not as much as James. Peter at least had his wand. I had found James’ wand and now carried it, clutching it like a totem, as though the tighter I held onto it, the more likely it would be that James would make it back to us just fine. 

We didn’t take our time through the rest of the passageway as we’d done in the first half, though we saw there was a little alcove where someone had thrown a bit of rug and some toss pillows. We were too nervous to find out if our friends were okay to explore. I didn’t doubt for a moment we’d come back, though, and finish the expedition. Maybe even the very next night, if James and Peter were alright, that is.

We had one more pit to dodge, but it was an easy one, too, small enough we could jump right over, and we finally reached the end and found ourselves at a door.

It was at the door that Sirius realised that we didn’t have the invisibility cloak. He groaned. “We’re going to get caught,” he said.

Remus replied, “Honestly, that’s what we get for being out of bed. And on a school night, no less.”

“Filch is gonna be right excited about putting us in detention,” I said.

We stepped into the fourth floor corridor and found we were coming out behind a big mirror that none of us ever noticed before. The mirror closed behind us and we looked around to figure out exactly where we were. Remus figured it out first and motioned for Sirius and I to follow him as he led the way through twisting hallways to the staircases. The staircases were groaning and twisting as they usually did and Remus and Sirius scrambled to get on a case just about to leave the fourth floor landing and I hurried to join them, only just making it with a leap before the case turned away.

“We’ll go right up to Dumbledore’s office. If Filch finds us, we tell him we were looking for Dumbledore,” Remus said, determined.

Sirius nodded, “We don’t need Filch knowing any more shortcuts between corridors!”

Suddenly, high above us in the hollow area made by the staircases, we heard the echoing shouts of Peeves. I groaned. “Oh bloody hell, last thing we need is Peeves.”

“Maybe he won’t notice us,” muttered Remus, “Just stay low.”

But Peeves had a sort of sixth sense when it came to spotting students out of bed at night and a fetish for alerting the proper authorities. He looped and swooped down and down among the staircases until he was hovering right above us. “Oooo ickle secondies out of bed after midnight! Get lost, did you?” He rolled over so he was hanging upside down right over our heads.

I crept up the stairway after Remus, followed by Sirius, trying to ignore the poltergeist, just wanting to make it to the fifth floor at least before he decided to zoom off to get Filch. “Ignoring me, is you? Silly secondie thinks he can ignore Peevesy!” And with that, Peeves let out a low howl, like a wolf at the moon.

Remus looked up at him, “Shut it, Peeves.”

“Peeves knows?” I whispered, confused.

“Peevesy knows everything,” sing-songed Peeves, and he blew a raspberry at me as he rolled over and over, like a giant beach ball, following along with us as we made our way up the stairs. He let out the low howl again. He stopped rolling and spotted James’ wand in my fist. “That isn’t your wand, you nasty little sneak-thief, is it?”

I snapped, “It’s none of your business.”

“None of my business?” Peeves asked, “But everything is Peevsy’s business!” He cackled, grinning, “Nasty little sneak-thief probably the one who’s done it, too, aren’t you? Making that mess downstairs!”

“What mess downstairs?” Sirius asked, genuinely confused.

“Acting innocent won’t get you out of trouble when Mr. Filch gets you,” Peeves giggled, “He’ll chain you up and beat you with ropes for such a mess!”

“What mess?” Remus asked.

Peeves grinned, “All that mud and water in the Entrance Hall you left behind. Messy maker making messes!”

“That wasn’t us,” I said, “We haven’t even been to the Entrance Hall.”

“Oh, and a liar on top of it all! Lying sneak-thieves who make messes!” Peeves hooted, Peevsy should tell Mr. Filch, on the double!”

“Please, Peeves, we’re trying to see the Headmaster,” Sirius commanded, “There’s been an emergency.”

Peeves grinned, “Emergency? Raise the alarm! THERE’S BEEN AN EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY ON THE FOURTH FLOOR!” he zipped about in loop-de-loops, away from us, up through the stairwell, shouting into each floor’s corridors and making a horrible noise like a mix between a wolf and a police car as he spun. “AROOOO! AROOOOOO!!!”

We all groaned.

“Peeves! Enough of that racket!” came a voice from above us. Filch. “Bloody poltergeist!”

“Other way, other way!” Remus hissed, and the three of us ran down the stairs. It had been one thing to be caught and in trouble for something we had done: being out of bed, that is. But I didn’t want to be blamed for making a mess in the Entrance Hall that we hadn’t done! So we scrambled madly back down the staircase, and leaped from the bottom step onto the landing it was just approaching as Filch’s voice echoed down the well in pursuit.

“Stop right there! You’re in trouble!” Filch shouted, “Peeves! Follow them!” Peeves didn’t, though. Instead, he cackled and blew a raspberry at Filch and his cackling echoed off as he zoomed away down one of the corridors on another floor. “Bloody poltergeist!” hissed Filch again.

Remus, Sirius and I were panting. None of us had ever run so hard in all our life. We rounded a corner and realised we were all the way down on the second floor somehow and we were fast approaching the top of the stairs that led down into the messy Entrance Hall. Sure enough, just as Peeves had said, there was a terrible mess of mud and water all over the floor, leading off to the stairs from the doorway. Somebody had come into the castle, soaked and caked in dirt, but the footprints faded off halfway up the stairs, so there was no telling who it was or where they’d gone. “Blimey, that’s a lot of mud,” Sirius commented.

“Think it was Hagrid?” I asked.

“Dunno,” replied Remus, “But I don’t care to be blamed for it. C’mon.” We rushed on past the stairs, down the west wing of the second floor corridors. Somehow, probably by one of his secret passageways, Filch’s voice was near at hand once again, echoing down the hallway behind us. Not only were we going to get blamed for the mess, but it would be us who’d led him right to it! We reached a dead end in the corridor, nearly slamming into the wall.

“Now what?” Sirius asked.

I could barely breathe. I doubled over, clutching a stitch in my side, unable to form a clear plan in my head for all the thumping of my heart.

“Psst! Sirius. Sabrina. Remus. Over here!”

I don’t think I’d ever seen Sirius so happy. “JAMES!” he cried and ran toward the voice and a hand that seemed disconnected from any body, waving to him from the darkness by an old suit of armour. “Thank Merlin! Is Peter with you?”

“I’m here,” Peter squeaked. He sounded as though he was squashed in behind the armour.

“C’mon, quickly. Under the invisibility cloak. Hurry,” James said.

Remus and I squished in and we pressed tight against each other, using the wall to help us hide and better fit beneath the cloak. We’d only just gotten under it and seen the fabric settle when the light of the torch that Filch carried lit up the hall we’d just been standing in. His long shadow stretched across the carpet and the silhouette of his nose crept up the wallpaper as he looked about from left to right, his breath wheezing and weak. The five of us held our breath and squeezed tighter together.

“Where’d they go, my pet?” Filch asked the ancient cat, Mrs. Norris, who wove about his ankles as they approached the place where we hid beneath the cloak. Filch growled, “Know you’re here...might as well just come out now and save us both some time.”

Suddenly, there was a door that slammed down the hallway and Filch stiffened. He turned around on his heel, staring back the way he’d come. “Could’ve sworn they came this way…” he muttered, but then he was off, charging down the corridor, thinking he was in hot pursuit of his prey.

None of us spoke to one another as we raced through the castle, careful not to run into Peeves or Filch a second time. We got through the portrait hole and up to the boys’ dormitory without any further incident, however, and James whipped the cloak from over our heads. “Blimey!” he cried.

I held up James’ wand, “That was bloody close. How did you lot end up there? Where did the pit go? We thought you were goners!” James took the wand from me and tossed Peter his wand back. Peter fumbled to catch it.

“We were going to get Dumbledore when we ran into Peeves,” Remus explained.

“We were going to come find you,” Peter offered.

“But then we ran into somebody in the Entrance Hall,” James tacked on.

“Did you see who made that great big mess then?” Sirius asked, excitedly.

James shook his head, “We were too bent on getting out of there without getting caught!”

“Wish we knew,” Remus commented.

“So, are you lot sure it wasn’t Hagrid?” I said.

“What would Hagrid be doing up at this hour, trudging mud about the Entrance Hall?” Peter asked.

“What would anybody be doing up at this hour, really,” Sirius said, “Other than doing suspicious stuff.”

“We were up at this hour,” Remus pointed out.

“And we were doing suspicious stuff,” James pointed out right back.

Remus nodded, “True.”

Sirius climbed onto James’ desk and pressed his nose to the window there, peering down at the lawns. “Think whoever it is came from outside? 

“Where else would they come from if not from outside?” Peter inquired, looking up at Sirius with an eyebrow raised.

James laughed and said, “It probably is Hagrid. You know how much he likes stomping ‘round in the mud out there!” He threw himself on the bed, “All I know is we didn’t get blamed and in the end that’s what matters, isn’t it?” He was studying his wand.

“So where did the pit go?” I asked, holding out a hand to help Sirius down off the desk.

James grinned, “The pit turned out to be a slide, almost. It brought us right down to the Hogwarts laundry room.” His eyes sparkled with excitement. “We went sliding down and landed in a big pile of Ravenclaw robes. You should’ve seen it, though, all magically operated, the whole business!”

“I wonder why they don’t have the house elves doing that?” Peter wondered.

“House elves wouldn’t be able to, would they?” Remus asked, “They’d be free. That’s how a house elf is freed: when he’s given clothes.”

I soon headed back to my own dorm, changing into my pyjamas quietly so not to wake Lily, and I went to bed. What a fabulous night this was!


	13. 27th September and 6th October, 1972

27th September, 1972

The previous night had been full of so much adventure that I slept quite soundly, but not for long. Morning came and we were all quite exhausted as we went down to the Great Hall for breakfast, in states of disarray.

“What happened to you lot?” Lily asked as we settled onto the benches at the Gryffindor table. She reached up and smoothed Remus’ hair a bit with her fingertips, a look of concern in her eyes. “Looks as though you’ve been getting into trouble again,” she added.

Remus blushed, but James said, “Trouble? Us? Never. We’re quite innocent.”

Lily snorted, “Yeah. Right. And I’m the Queen.”

“Hail, your majesty,” Sirius said, giving Lily a sweeping bow before sitting down next to James at the table.

Lily rolled her eyes at him.

When Lily was distracted in a conversation with Remus about the homework we had due in Astronomy, James nudged Sirius and I, as we were sitting on either side of him, and nodded toward the staff table. “What is it?” Sirius asked.

“Well, Hagrid doesn’t look tired at all, so I reckon it wasn’t him in the Entrance Hall after all,” James pointed out.

My eyes skimmed the row of teachers and landed on Professor Blythe. “She does, though.”

Professor Blythe looked quite tired and considerably messier than I’d yet seen her, with her hair in a messy braid that was slung over her shoulder carelessly, a lot of loose ends sticking up from it. Usually, Professor Blythe was a very well-kept woman, with beautiful curly blonde hair and bright eyes. She dressed fashionably and wore bright-coloured shoes like a fashion model.

Cyrilla Blythe had, thus far, proven to be an alright Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, though not at all as good as Moody had been last term. She was young, so it was odd to hear her talk of things like how to defend oneself against a dark spell because it was quite obvious that she was talking from pure theory. She’d never done this stuff herself before, not in real life anyway. I felt as though I was being deprived of some real learning in Defense lately. After all, if all she was going to do was teach us from what books and theories said, I could learn just as much from Remus as I could from her. In fact, I was doing most of my learning for Defense by proofreading Remus’ essays rather than paying attention in class.

“I can’t picture her doing anything that involves mud,” I said.

“Well, neither can I,” Sirius admitted, “But maybe whatever it was she was doing, she wasn’t alone.” His voice carried a hint of suspicion.

James picked up on it, “Maybe,” he added darkly.

“What are you lot whispering about over there?” Lily asked.

Sirius grinned, “Just commenting on how lovely this porridge is,” he said.

James swept his spoon through the thick stuff and took a big bite, “Mmm,” he hummed. I snickered.

After breakfast it was time for Potions, so we all got our books and headed down to the dungeons to Slughorn’s classroom, where the Slytherins were already waiting around in the corridor. Severus Snape was leaning against the stone wall closest to the stairwell, likely waiting for Lily to arrive. He glared as he saw that Lily was talking animatedly to the five of us as she came down the stairs.

“Morning Snivelly,” Sirius greeted him as we approached, “You know the wall will stand up on its own without you holding it up like that.”

Lily gave Sirius a look and he shrugged, but continued on past Severus, headed for the door into the classroom. James and Severus exchanged glares, but James thankfully kept his mouth shut as he walked by.

“Nice hair, Potter,” snarled Severus.

James ran a hand through it. It was sticking up every which way. He answered, “Thanks, Snape; the secret is actually using shampoo.” Peter laughed too loudly, his guffaw echoing in the chambers, then scurried past Snape’s glare to catch up with James and Sirius, who were heading inside the classroom already. 

Lily, Remus and I had come to a stop by Severus and when he turned to look at us, I felt a little sick to my stomach. Lily asked, “How have you been, Sev?”

“Busy,” he replied shortly.

“Oh,” Lily said, a bit put off by the abruptness of Severus’ reply. She said, “Well, that’s...lovely, I suppose. Better to be busy than bored.”

Severus shrugged, glowering at Remus.

“Well,” Lily fumbled, “Better get inside for the lesson, then…”

Severus nodded curtly.

“Alright.” Lily hastened away toward the door of the classroom, followed by Remus and I, and Severus trudging along behind us.

As we entered, Slughorn slung an arm around Remus’ shoulders as he walked into the room and pulled him closer. “Remus, my boy! Lily!” His voice was booming. “You’re both coming to the first official meeting of the Slug Club this week, aren’t you?”

I had forgotten about that weird club that Slughorn had. And it seemed like my two friends did too, as they looked rather annoyed.

I slunk away to my seat as Slughorn droned on and on to the poor couple about the now weekly meetings, because Dumbledore said it would be a good way to have inter-house bonding.

Since Lily was paired with Remus now, I had the unfortunate pleasure of being stuck with Snape. I gave him a polite smile to break the tension, but he simply was too focused on Lily and Remus to pay me any attention.

When Lily put her book up, the two’s hands touched in the middle. My stomach felt bottomless quite suddenly, as though anything put in there would fall all the way to the floor without even a pause on the way down. Severus, however, looked like he wanted to curse Remus to oblivion. I tore my eyes off of Lily and Remus, and cleared my throat to alert Severus that Slughorn was about to start class.

Slughorn walked ‘round the massive desk at the front of the room and with a flick of his wand, the board suddenly had the recipe for the potion we would be brewing that day. I flipped through my book to the right page. I noticed Snape hadn’t taken his book out yet.

“We can share my book,” I offered.

“Alright,” Severus said thickly, his throat nearly closed.

I put the book between the two of us. Successfully brewing the potion was this class’s secondary objective: the primary one was to prevent the bomb that is Severus Snape from exploding.

“Look at them,” Snape murmured icily.

“I’ve seen them,” I mumbled. I tried to not pay attention, though my heart was pounding. “Are you alright, Severus?”

“Peachy.”

I shrugged. “I’ll go get our supplies from the storeroom.”

“You do that.”

I sighed, and disappeared off with half the class toward the storeroom to collect the stuff we needed to make the potion Slughorn had assigned. All the while, I tried to desperately convince myself that I didn’t care that Lily and Remus’ hands were touching on the desk like that. 

6th October, 1972

The weather got cooler as September came to a close and October began. So much had gone on in the first month of term that it hadn’t seemed odd that the Quidditch team tryouts hadn’t been held yet, but a sign was posted on the Notice Board earlier this week, saying that the tryouts would be this Saturday: aka tomorrow. The boys and I had originally planned to spend Saturday exploring the Trophy Room’s hidden passageway, but once that poster had been discovered, our plans changed. In fact, Remus’ success of getting the four of us to study with him on Friday went out the window as well when James announced he needed as much practise as he could get down on the pitch with me, and Sirius had quickly agreed he needed to witness and help out by being five of the other team members at once.

“You lot know you can’t play Quidditch if you’re failing your classes, right?” Remus demanded this evening, when James and I grabbed our broomsticks, prepared to go down to the pitch.

“We won’t fail,” Sirius said confidently, “You wouldn’t let us.”

“For your information, Remus,” I said, puffing out my chest, “My marks are almost as good as yours.”

Remus sighed and glanced at Peter. “Are you going with them?” he asked.

Peter looked torn, then, finally, he said, “Well...it would be cool to get to play Quidditch…”

“Oh go on then,” Remus said and Peter quickly scrambled after us.

It seemed like most everyone had the exact idea as us and had gone outside to practise Quidditch for the tryouts. There was literally no space to add James and I, so we decided to head back.

We burst through the portrait hole, and James was clearly in a sour mood. I blushed as we entered the common room, only to find it deserted save for Remus and Lily giving each other goo-goo eyes. 

“What are you lot doing?” James said, looking them over.

“Studying,” Remus replied quickly, looking away from Lily.

Sirius grinned, “Yeah? Studying with Evans, are you?” He nodded to Lily, “Wotcher, Evans.”

“H-hi,” Lily answered, her cheeks flushing. 

“C’mon lads...let’s go upstairs,” Sirius said, heading for the stairs.

James and I stared at Remus and Lily for a moment. “Maybe we should sit by the fire a bit first, Sirius. I’m a bit chilly from the grounds.” James said.

“You’re not cold,” Sirius answered, “C’mon, they’re studying, let them be.”

I frowned and we followed Sirius upstairs. “Well we need to study, too,” Peter argued as we went, “Why don’t we just get our books and join them?”

“Will you shut up, you git?” Sirius demanded, “I’ll explain why not when we get upstairs. C’mon.” He waved to Remus and the lot of us went up to the boys’ dorm.

***

“So...did you have a good snog, then?” Sirius asked Remus as soon as he stepped into the dormitory a little later that night. He was laying across his bed, feet up on the headboard, grinning absurdly as he rolled over, eager for details. I buried myself even deeper into my Defense essay, trying not to hear any details about Remus and Lily’s togetherness. James, too, was trying his best to tune them out.

Remus shook his head, “We didn’t snog.”

“Well what did you do?” Sirius asked.

“Homework,” Remus replied with a shrug. He dropped his books onto his desk. “I got a good bit of it done, too.”

“Can I read your Defense essay?” Peter asked, “I’m not sure I understand what Professor Blythe wants…” Remus handed over the essay without a single protest. 

Sirius studies Remus for a long moment. “You really didn’t snog? You aren’t just saying that because James might get all bent out of shape again?”

“I’m not bent out of shape,” James said, looking ‘round at Sirius, “I told you, I don’t fancy Evans, I don’t give a damn who she sees or does homework with or whatever.”

“Okay,” Sirius answered, grinning, “And I said I don’t believe you.” He turned to Remus, “Nor do I believe you. You and Evans were alone down there for...how long? Had to be at least a couple hours! And all you did is study?” He shook his head, “Not even a quick wee snog or two?”

Remus shook his head, “No snogging of any time or length. None. We did homework.”

“Bloody hell,” Sirius muttered and he flopped back onto the bed. “Well aren’t you just boring as a flobberworm.”

“Flobberworms aren’t entirely uninteresting creatures, they’re very interesting if you consider that they’re--”

“Newt Scamander rated them X...BORING,” interrupted Sirius.

I felt slightly better, having heard there wasn’t any snogging involved in Remus’ evening with Lily. James, too, started being more of his usual self again after that.


	14. 7th October, 1972

This morning, the entire Gryffindor table was abuzz in the Great Hall, all speculating about this afternoon’s Quidditch tryouts. Eyes were cast in James’ direction as people whispered and hissed amongst each other, telling the first years about the amazing gumball catches James had made during flying lessons last year. There was a lot of excitement generating among us as we talked and ate, preparing for the event to come that afternoon.

When it was finally time, I grabbed my broomstick and the Quidditch gloves my dad had bought me when I told him my interest (mostly to spite James) in trying out for the house team. Sirius was hoping to use one of the school brooms to try out with, and wanted to get there early enough to get one of the better brooms the school owned, at least, to increase his chances.

Peter and Remus were going along to watch from the stands. At the pitch, they sat next to Lily a couple rows up in the box, and the three of them chatted quietly while they waited for the tryouts to start.

Derek Bell had set up quite a nice tryout with various obstacles meant to eliminate obvious non-contenders, like a group of giggling fifth year girls who had come along just to admire Derek himself, and a couple of first years that had tried sneaking onto the field. “Guess they would’ve caught us last year, if we’d tried it,” Sirius muttered under his breath to James and I. 

“Guess so,” James agreed.

Finally, Derek decided to split everyone up by year and go on that way until he’d selected the ones he wanted to do some further tryout moves with. 

“I still can’t believe you’re serious about playing Quidditch,” James laughed.

I shrugged. “I still can’t believe you don’t believe me.”

“I mean, she was good during that pick up game,” Sirius said, but James still was skeptical. I couldn’t wait to prove him wrong.

Year by year, Derek had us flying laps ‘round the pitch, weeding out the poor flyers. A couple third years and one fourth year were eliminated this way. Then he had us passing about the Quaffle while moving about the pitch, trying to see who had poor aim or bad catching skills. A couple more were taken out of the running as they dropped the Quaffle or had terrible aim. At one point, a third year nearly hit Remus in the head in the stands; he was only just able to leap out of the way in time.

Finally, they’d narrowed it down to what was basically what remained of the team from the year before, the three of us second years, two fourth years, and a fifth year: a total of ten people for seven positions. James looked extremely confident that he should be able to get one of the positions. 

“I s’pose the best way to do it would be to play a bit of Quidditch. We’ll play short on each side...so...uh...I’ll be Keeper, and Woodhouse, you be Keeper. Tinnamin, Potter: you lot are the Seekers. Black, Blaize: Beaters. That leaves Stratford, Longbottom, Saltzmann, and Weasley to be Chasers.”

Bilius draped his arm ‘round my shoulders, “C’mon Stratford, you’ll be on my team,” he said excitedly, pulling me over, “We’ll score loads of goals on ol’ Bell, no problem. He’s usually a Chaser, totally out of his element as a Keeper.” Bilius winked, grinning evilly over toward Derek.

“Don’t go underestimating me,” Derek chided him, “I’m not half bad as Keeper.”

“Half bad is still half worse than good,” Bilius pointed out.

We started playing, and I was very glad to be on my broom in the fresh air above the pitch, the smell of grass in my nose. I was zooming about, Remus and Peter watching from the stands with the rest of the house, cheering the lot of us on. I knew I had nearly no prior experience, so I had to do a really fine job to get a position. The realisation of this made me a bit nervous and I gripped the broomstick tighter, my palms a bit sweaty. I had to prove to James that I was good.

Sirius was doing alright with the Beater’s bat, though Longbottom was doing quite a lot better and Sirius missed blocking the Bludger from knocking Bilius so hard he was nearly thrown from his broomstick, upsetting the aim he’d had at throwing a Quaffle through one of the gold rings. Derek easily blocked the Quaffle and threw it back into play. 

I swept ‘round Frank easily, though, and caught the Quaffle before he could and doubled back to sink it past Derek. I spun ‘round in loops with my broom in excitement, hooting quite loudly as I went about like a corkscrew in the air.

It wasn’t long before Tinnamin had caught the Snitch, and surprisingly, James had been too slow.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered.

“It’s alright mate,” Sirius called, flying up beside James.

I snickered. James shook his head and dodged away, clearly frustrated with himself. Since we weren’t playing a regulation game, catching the Snitch didn’t mean the end of play, only that Andy was ahead of James in the bid for the position of Seeker. But all was not lost for him. 

Derek blew his whistle, resuming play, and I managed to sink another goal in the next few minutes, followed closely by one from each of the other Chasers, other than Saltzmann, who was quickly proving his inability to stay focused during actual play.

At least he’s one of the three that would be cut, I thought. I just hoped James, Sirius or I wouldn’t be the next one out.

Remus was standing up, watching and cheering for us. I grinned at him, flashing my pearly whites. He’s not really a Quidditch fan, but I felt quite happy that he was supporting us, his friends.

Sirius missed the Bludger he was going after, and it slammed into Derek’s stomach rather hard. “Sorry!” he called, blushing. “Damn.”

Derek rubbed his stomach, “Alright, that’s enough...let’s switch up the positions a bit, shall we? I think I’ve seen what I need to.”

I felt badly for James. He hadn’t caught the snitch during his time as Seeker. That would likely count against him when Derek assigned the positions. He looked miserable, so I rubbed his back a bit. I myself was nearly trembling with adrenaline. God I love Quidditch.

Derek once more called out who would be playing which positions this time. Sirius would be in the hoops as Keeper, while Derek and James were to be Chasers. Bilius became the new Beater, which made sense as that was his usual position. My stomach lurched as I was given the new position of Seeker against Tinnamin.

James seemed to be so stressed out about him not living to expectations that he drastically underperformed. He fumbled the Quaffle when it was thrown to him by Derek soon after play resumed and there was a moment when he was so busy looking over at Sirius blocking a rather good shot from Longbottom that he nearly flew right into Bilius and derailed him from blocking a Bludger headed for me.

I think I played rather well. Tinnamin and I each caught the snitch once. But what really made me happy is how much better I played than James. I knew I earned bragging rights for at least a few weeks. Making the team was a bonus that I would welcome with open arms.

Eventually Derek blew his whistle and announced he’d made the choices and we could all land to be appointed official roles on the team. Sirius and I high-fived, and we each gave James a friendly pat on the back. He grimaced, and looked like a strong wind could blow him over. We joined the little group of students that had gathered around Derek at the foot of the rings.

“Alright you lot, there was a lot of great playing just now. I wish I could keep all of you, you’re already the best among the best who came to try out, but I’ve got to make cuts someplace, as you know, and, well, I’m sorry for those of you who aren’t picked but next term will be another chance and you should all try again as three of us will be leaving Hogwarts next year.” He pointed at Andy Tinnamin, himself, and Bilius as indicators. He took a deep breath, “That said...our Gryffindor Seeker will be Andy Tinnamin.”

I clapped politely with the others, and James looked down, defeated.

“Keeper is Jacob Woodhouse,” Derek continued, and we all clapped for Woodhouse before he continued on, “Beaters will be the exceptional Mister Weasley once more and Frank Longbottom. Congratulations.” Derek grinned.

“O Captain, my Captain,” grinned Bilius.

“That leaves our Chasers,” Derek said, “As you might’ve guessed, I’ll be one of the three Chasers, so that leaves two positons left with four people.” He looked ‘round at me, Sirius, James, and Chris Saltzmann. “Stratford, you’re in.”

I squealed with delight, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

James looked over at me, like he'd just licked Snape's greasy head. Derek’s eyes travelled to his. Then, finally, he said, “Potter. Welcome to the team.”

***

The second we got back to Gryffindor Tower, James went right to bed.

I eventually decided to sneak upstairs to check on him. He had pulled the covers up over his head, never even bothering to put on his pyjamas and covered his ears with a pillow, not wanting to hear the other Gryffindors in the common room below partying in celebration of the new Quidditch team. He hugged his knees to himself, looking rather miserable.

“Dunno what you’re so torn up over,” I said. I pulled the blanket down off James to find him blearily staring straight ahead, his eyes red ‘round the corners like he’d been crying. “You made the team!”

“Yeah. As a Chaser,” James said thickly.

I rolled my eyes. “As a fellow Chaser, I now take offense to that. But listen, James, you made the team. That’s a feat in itself. Sirius didn’t even make the team at all, how do you think he feels?”

James didn’t answer.

I sighed; obviously there was no talking to him, and I gave up. “I’m going to be writing to my parents tonight. Can I borrow the cloak to get the Owlery?” 

“Fine.”

“G’night, mate.” I rubbed his shoulder affectionately, grabbing the cloak from on top of his trunk, and headed back down the stairs, leaving James to wallow in his own unwarranted self pity.

***

Later that night, when everyone had gone to bed, I grabbed the invisibility cloak and snuck out of the dorm. I made my way through the dark corridors of Hogwarts, up to the Owlery, where I found Archimedes and scrawled out a letter to my parents. I included how James was struggling to come to terms with his own humanity, hoping they could maybe send a bit of encouraging words to him. I finally tied it to Archie’s leg. “There you go, go on back to London.”

Archie flew off and I watched until the owl was nothing but a speck over the trees.

The corridors were dark and gloomy, and I slouched along them, only half listening for Filch or Mrs. Norris. I wasn’t far from the portrait hole when I heard a funny noise and ducked into a corner behind a large statue of a witch with a hump on her back. I stood quietly there, my hands on the statue’s back, listening carefully.

The sound had been crying. Somebody was crying. Quite heavily, too, the sort of crying that turns your stomach inside out practically, and hurts in your throat. I hesitated, wondering if I ought to check on the person and see if they were alright. I was just about to when I heard a doorway squeak from the other end of the corridor and the sound of Filch’s shuffling footsteps echoed through the dark.

I pressed myself even harder against the wall as the caretaker walked by, quickening when he heard the sound of the crying, too.

“What’s the meaning of this?” I heard Filch say, agitated, “Students out of bed!”

“I am not a student,” came the strong voice of Cyrilla Blythe, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. “I am a professor.”

“Well he’s a student,” Filch replied.

I craned my neck, hoping to see who Filch was talking about, but I couldn’t see anything except the faint glow of Filch’s torch on the ceiling and the long shadow of Mrs. Norris’ tail on the wall as she swished it in glee at having found a delinquent student.

“Yes he is, but he is with me, and I’ve given him permission to be out of bed, so he is not out of bounds, Mr. Filch,” Professor Blythe said, her voice stern, “You can move along now.”

Filch was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, “What’s the matter with him, what’s he blubbering for?” his voice was about as caring as a rock might’ve been. He was simply nosing about, not really asking out of empathy.

Cyrilla Blythe replied, “That, sir, is not any of your concern. You need to move along and take care of some of the dust and cobwebs growing about the place before we end up with an infestation of acromantulas.” The clipped tone of her voice reminded me of McGonagall in a way, as though she were trying to have the same authority as McGonagall might’ve done.

Filch clearly was having none of it. “Get to bed, you,” he growled, and there was a shuffling and footsteps leading off toward the Fat Lady. “No students out of bed after dark,” growled Filch.

“You’re a heartless man, Filch,” hissed Professor Blythe, “Couldn’t you see he was upset?”

“I’ll give him a reason to be upset...detention for a week if I report him to Dumbledore,” he grouched, “And it’s too bad they’ve taken the whips and chains from my office, I’d use them, too.”

Blythe replied, “I suppose some things never change, Mr. Filch. Your heartlessness is certainly one of them. You love nothing but that mangy old cat and even she isn’t loved very well. Look at the state of her! She needs a bath.”

“Don’t you be talking about my cat,” hissed Filch, “She’s mine, I’ll keep her as I please. Come along, Mrs. Norris,” He added in a voice much more gentle that he’d been using speaking to Professor Blythe. He shuffled off down the hallway, the flickering of his torch fading until the only light in the corridor was Professor Blythe’s wand. She sighed and I heard her mutter something before she turned down a different corridor, and her footsteps faded off into the darkness, too.

I waited several moments to be sure the coast was clear, then I unwedged myself from behind the statue and scurried down the hall, wondering what I’d just overheard. Who had Professor Blythe been talking about? Who had been crying, and why? I reckoned it was one of the first year boys who was a bit homesick...they were a bit of a weepy bunch. I climbed through the portrait hole, but there wasn’t anybody up in the common room, though there was a half-finished cup of tea by the fire.

I climbed the stairs to my dormitory and finally changed into my pyjamas, crawling into bed and pulling the blanket up to my chin. I put my wand on the nightstand and closed my eyes. Perhaps, I realised as I fell asleep, the crying person had been James, or one of the others who hadn’t made the Gryffindor Quidditch team, like Saltzmann.


	15. 8th and 24th October, 1972

8th October, 1972

This morning at breakfast, Archie returned and landed on my shoulder with a hoot as the other students' owls flurried in through the window in a blur of feathers and letters. I untied the note from the owl’s ankle and gave him a bit of bacon before he flew off to the Owlery.

“It’s from my parents,” I said once I noticed Sirius giving me a questioning look. “Probably writing me about me being a Chaser.”

“How would they know already?” asked Peter.

“I got up and wrote them during the night,” I said. 

James looked down at his toast. “I should probably write to my dad about me not getting Seeker. It’s best to get the disappointment out of the way, rather than putting it off.”

“Oi, you want to talk about being a disappointment to your family, you can hold off feeling sorry for yourself, mate,” Sirius said.

I nodded in agreement, “Your dad isn’t going to be upset you aren’t a Seeker, he’s going to be spiffing you’re on the team at all. Stop being so hard on yourself, mate. Up in your room crying half the evening! You should’ve been in the common room drinking butterbeers and celebrating like the rest of us were.”

I opened my letter, tuning out James’ whining about me not understanding how important this was to him and his dad. I pulled out the folded bit of Muggle paper out of the envelope and unfolded it. I recognised my dad’s cramped handwriting.

Sabrina! You made the team and you’re a Chaser! We’re so proud of you, peanut. You’ll be an excellent Chaser. Your mother is in the best mood I’ve seen her in since you’ve left for school. Keep us updated on how all your practices and games are going! 

Now, read this part aloud to James, as you’ve more than clearly expressed his disappointment: I may be new at how Quidditch works, but from what it seems, Chasers get all the action. Sure, Seekers get a lot of glory and attention, but they seem to be just spectators on a broom until it’s time to catch the Snitch. The winning is really up to the Chasers: they’re the ones on the pitch working for it, shooting goals and dodging Bludgers! From what Sabrina’s told me of your skill, James, you’re going to be a fantastic Chaser. You better make sure my daughter is better, though!! Only joking, of course.

Practise hard! Lots of love, Dad.

I smiled at the kindness of my dad. “Well?” I asked, looking at my bespectacled friend.

James sunk into the bench a bit, thinking of what he said to him. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” he said boldly. “I guess Chasers are the ones working for the win, right?” 

I nodded, “And I bet your dad will be just as proud, too.” I turned to Sirius, “Your parents should be proud, too. It’s them that’s messed up, not you.”

Sirius shrugged, looking a little down.

***

We decided after breakfast to spend the late morning investigating the Trophy Room passageway, and snuck off from the Great Hall with an air of adventure about us. We managed to avoid all the pits this time, though James was curious about what would happen should he jump in one of the others.

“Those could be real pits,” Peter fretted, “Just because we got lucky once doesn’t mean we’ll continue to! They could go anywhere!”

“Blimey, that’s exactly what I’m tempted by!” James explained, inching nearer the edge.

Sirius snickered, “Careful you don’t go down there, you prat, you might end up Giant Squid food if you land in the lake!”

“Yeah, c’mon James,” Remus said, “You dunno where it goes.”

I pulled James away from the edge. “There’s plenty of interesting things here in the tunnel to have a look at. We’ll explore all that another day.” James reluctantly agreed, and we continued on through the passageway.

We found the little alcove with the pillows and rug and James was really excited about imagining the previous explorers that had found the tunnel. “This is brilliant,” he exclaimed, throwing himself down amongst the pillows eagerly. “These people are my heroes.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat,” Peter agreed, having a look around.

I waved my wandlight over the stuff up on the walls, reading little bits of notes and faded drawings that had been magicked to hang up on the stone. There were Christmas cards and birthday cards and notes that had been passed about during classes and Quidditch plays on big parchments with moving sketches of the players zipping about the little pitch they’d drawn...and then my eyes widened. “Hey, look at this, you lot.”

The four boys crowded around me quickly.

It was a list - a rather long list - with a heading that read Passageways.

“Merlin’s BEARD!” shouted Sirius, snatching it off the wall with excitement, “Do you know what this is!?”

“THE KEY TO OUR BRILLIANCE!” shouted James, grabbing it from Sirius, his eyes sparkling manically as he read it over, “Look at this! Just LOOK at it! Blimey!”

Remus took it, “They must’ve spent a good deal of time investigating the castle to find this many passageways - and I don’t think I’ve seen anything about any of these in Hogwarts: A History, either--”

Peter took it next, “Wow. Look at that! There’s so many!” he hesitated, lowering the parchment. “Do you suppose they’ve all got dangerous pits like this one’s got?”

Sirius took it from Peter, “Who gives a damn? We’ve figured out how to navigate those. I wonder where they all GO?”

I took it this time, my eyes flicking down the list, “This one says Honeydukes. Do you suppose it goes all the way to Hogsmeade?”

James took it, “Honeydukes!? Blimey, what I wouldn’t do to go out there! They have the most delicious chocolate in all the wizarding world…” he looked downright dreamy. “My dad brought me there once, when we stayed in Hogsmeade on holiday. They have fire sugar, too. You ever had fire sugar?”

I shook my head, “Never,” Sirius took the list as I asked, “What’s it like?”

“You know Muggle candy floss?”

“Of course,”

“It’s like that. Except it’s red and very hot and when you eat it, you open your mouth and you spit out fire, like a dragon. It’s brilliant!”

“It sounds terrifying,” Peter eeked.

I was leaning ‘round Sirius and looking at the list. I pointed, “Hey, I know that statue. I hid behind it last night, but I didn’t see any passageways there.”

Remus took the map and glanced over it, following where I was pointing at the line that read Statue of the Witch with the Humped Back. “Perhaps there’s a knob or a lever,” he suggested, “That’s how the Whomping Willow works, anyway.”

All four of us looked at Remus.

“That’s how I get out to the Shrieking Shack,” he explained, “When I...you know...go wolf.”

“The Whomping Willow’s not on the list as a passage,” James said, looking it over quickly.

“Well it wouldn’t be, would it? They just planted it last year because of me, didn’t they?” Remus pointed out. He handed Peter the list back as he wiggled his fingers, asking for it. “So the people who wrote this list are long graduated by now.”

“Yeah,” James agreed. His eyes glowed. “Just means there may be even more besides these.”

Sirius grinned, “Well, these are a good start.”

I nodded, smirking. “Let’s add them to our map, once we’ve explored them.”

“Looks like our weekends just filled up for the foreseeable future, eh?” Remus grinned. Only Peter seemed less than thrilled, as he worried about what might be waiting for us in the passageways.

24th October, 1972

So far, the term has been going quite well. All of us were getting good marks, even Peter now that he’d gotten back into the swing of balancing schoolwork and the adventures that we dragged him on. James and I were practising Quidditch frequently, and the other three attended every practice to root us on. Hallowe’en was approaching and I was looking forward to the feast. With it coming so soon, the entire castle was decorated festively and smelling like pumpkins and sweets already, and outside the grounds were frosted at night and chilly even in midday. Remus returned from the Shrieking Shack with a bit of a flu that made him sound stuffed up in the nose from the cold that had whistled in the windows for hours the night of the full moon.

Remus was falling asleep in Defense Against the Dark Arts, something he was never known to do. He was jolted awake by the sound of Professor Blythe announcing that our topic of study for the week would be werewolves. “How to identify, and how to defeat,” she said, smiling at us. “After all, werewolves are among the most dangerous creatures in the world. They may be part human most of the time, but when they change, they change completely and lose their human minds. Their spirits are suspended within themselves, as the beast inside tears loose. A werewolf, in wolf form, would kill even their best friend, if the opportunity was presented.”

Remus and I exchanged glances with raised eyebrows.

Peter trembled as he clutched his book before him on the desk. 

“Well, professor, don’t you reckon some werewolves might be better at keeping their mind about them than others?” Sirius asked.

Professor Blythe looked at him, a bit startled, “No,” she said, “I don’t.”

“Well, I do,” Sirius said. All five of us stared at him. Remus’ face was rather red around the edges. “I mean, maybe not naturally, but there’s got to be something that actually would make them remember who they are, right? Like maybe some werewolves have like a...a willpower of some sort, one that’s stronger than most?”

Professor Blythe leaned against her desk and pondered. “Well, there was a student here at Hogwarts not that long ago...he’s a potioneer now, full-time at St. Mungo’s. He had this theory with aconite and silver, that it could be mixed to create a potion that might tame the brutal instincts of the wolf and allow the mental capacity of the human within to dominate the instincts of the wolf. But Damocles’ potion is a bit far from being an over-the-counter prescription, I’m afraid,” she added with a shrug, “It’ll be a bit of time before he can fully prove his theory. He needs a werewolf that would be willing to try it, and it’s an awfully dangerous procedure as well. Nobody dares to be that close to a werewolf.” She shivered, “Imagine.”

Remus stared at his desk, doodling very hard in the margin of his textbook.

“I certainly can’t imagine that,” Lily whispered to Remus, “Could you?” Poor Remus looked quite uncomfortable and pale. “Are you alright?”

“I...I’m not feeling well,” Remus stammered.

Sirius and James and I shared a look of concern. Peter was biting his tongue and copying the notes Professor Blythe was writing on the board, oblivious to the sheen of nervous sweat that had sprung up across Remus’ forehead.

Lily stood up, “Professor. Remus isn’t well. May I take him to the Hospital Wing to see Madam Pomfrey?”

“I’ll be alright,” Remus said, waving Lily off.

Professor Blythe turned around and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Remus, “Merlin’s beard! Are you alright Remus?” She withdrew a handkerchief from her desk drawer and quickly crossed the room to the desk where Lily and Remus sat and quickly swept the kerchief over his forehead, “You’re burning up with fever.” I vaguely remembered Remus telling me that he had a much higher body temperature a day or so after transforming. 

Professor Blythe announced, “Class is dismissed. Be sure to read the textbook chapter on werewolves, and we’ll talk more about identifying them and treating a bite next class. Come along, Remus, we’ll go to the Hospital Wing.” She took Remus’ hand gently and he shivered.

I looked on with concern as Professor Blythe led Remus out of the room quickly, her arm supporting him.

Lily turned to the boys and I as we began to gather our things. “Did you lot know he was still sick?” she asked.

“Still sick?” James asked.

“Well he just missed two days of classes...wasn’t he sick?” Lily asked.

“Oh yeah!” James said, remembering the full moon had just happened, and yes, indeed Remus being ill had been the excuse, again. “Yeah. He was.”

“So what did you let him come to class for?” she snapped at him.

James looked speechlessly at us, utterly flabbergasted. “He...he was better,” Sirius replied with a shrug.

“Yeah, he said he was better,” James echoed.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Obviously he wasn’t. He looked peaky even before class.” She sighed, a worried look on her face as she collected her books.

“Look, Lily, Remus is going to be fine,” I said.

We all waited for Peter to gather his things together: he was always the slowest at doing so. We made sure the classroom door shut tightly behind us and started up to Gryffindor Tower together. We were on the rotating staircases before any of us spoke again.

Lily took a deep breath, “He’s always sick. It seems like every month he’s ill. Does he have a condition?”

“A condition?” James asked.

“Is there something the matter with your ears, Potter?” Lily asked, eyebrows raised, “Everything I say, you repeat like you’re a giant parrot.”

James scowled.

Sirius supplied, “He just doesn’t feel well, Lily, that’s all. He’ll be alright. Stop worrying so much.”

“I can’t help but worry,” Lily said, “Did you see how peaky he got? One minute we’re all talking about werewolves, the next Remus is about to pass out!”

I snickered, “Maybe he’s afraid of wolves.” Sirius, James, and Peter chuckled. Lily looked quite agitated.

When the staircase finally connected with the landing, Lily stepped off quickly and shaking her head, muttered, “You lot are the worst friends ever!” She clutched her books to her chest with one hand and pointed accusingly at us, “You don’t even care that he’s sick!”

“We care,” James said defensively.

Lily rolled her eyes, “All you care about is yourself.”

James looked flabbergasted once again. “What’re you attacking me for!”

Lily didn’t reply. Instead, she turned on her heel and started off down the corridor in a huff.

“You’re going the wrong way, Evans,” James called, “The tower’s this way.”

“I know where the tower is, you toerag!” Lily called over her shoulder, “I’m not going to the tower.”

“Where are you going?” I called.

“To check on Remus!” she called back.

We watched her disappear around the end of the corridor. James sighed, “Everything’s an argument with her. Why’s she got to be like that?”

“You’re both like that,” Sirius replied, “You always start it with her.”

“I didn’t!” James squealed in defensiveness. “She called me a parrot!” Peter laughed - at least until James glared at him, then he stopped abruptly. “How is that me starting it?”

“It’s just the tone you use with her,” I replied, shrugging. “You always sound a little bit annoyed with her or something.”

“Well I am! She’s annoying!” James answered, “Which is why I don’t understand why you lot think I fancy her! I don’t fancy her...I can hardly stand talking to her at all. She’s so sassy and rude and--” James continued on with his rant all the rest of the way up to the common room. Through his entire tirade, all I could think was that James wouldn’t be going on and on so long about anyone else. It made me quite sad for some reason.


	16. 31st October, 1972

31st October, 1972

Hallowe’en night came to Hogwarts and the halls were a frenzy of excitement. Hardly any of us students were able to concentrate on lessons in classes and most of the teachers had prepared fun activities for us to do in order to combat the holiday distraction. In Transfiguration, for example, Professor McGonagall had us transfigure odds and ends into bats. Lily had an impressive collection of bats fluttering about over her head before long, rivaled only by Remus’ equally large cloud of them. I had around seven, myself. James and Sirius had a few circling their desks, but poor Peter had only a couple of half-shaped things: including a small ball with black wings. 

James snatched it out of the air, “See?” he said, “I should’ve been Seeker...I’ve just caught Peter’s assignment!”

The bats from all the day’s Transfiguration classes were collected and freed in the Great Hall...including Peter’s half-object-half-bat monstrosities. By the end of the day, there were hundreds of student-made bats flying about among the floating candles and Jack-o-Lanterns that filled the ceilings over the four house tables as the students and faculty sat down to a feast. Stuffed baked pumpkins and chops as big as our heads and globs of gravy and carrots with butterscotch pasties for dessert! It was rich and delicious.

“Ughhh,” Sirius groaned when he shoved the last bite of his third pastie into his cheeks, “You’re going to have to bring me to St. Mungo’s if I eat even one more bite. I think I’ve ripped a hole in my stomach with all the food I’ve shoved in.”

“Me too,” James nodded, holding his belly.

I sighed in relief at my full stomach, nodding in agreement. “Here, here.”

Peter, who had eaten twice the amount an any of us had, wrapped several pasties in his napkin and pushed the bulging package into the pocket of his robes for later.

Lily was sitting on a bench next to Remus, who was across from me, though she was facing away from him as she chatted with a few third years and Ali Fortescue. I spent a portion of the meal focused on how close to each other the two of them were. But I soon looked up toward the faculty table as Dumbledore stood up to wish us all a Happy Hallowe’en and dismissed us off to bed.

The great crowd slowly moved out of the Hall and into the corridors. We were on the stairs when James turned ‘round to us and said, “Are you lot even tired? I’m not.”

I grinned, “What’re you suggesting, Potter?”

“We should go to the common room,” Remus replied, “We have homework to do. Especially you two,” he added, pointing at James and I. We’d been shirking off our homework a bit as we had been practising Quidditch in our spare time. He was teaching me all sorts of common strategies and plays, so I wouldn’t feel out of the loop when Derek called for a certain formation during practices.

“Blimey, homework on a holiday, you are insane!” James exclaimed. “You don’t have to come, then, if you don’t want to.”

“Come where?”

James didn’t answer. Instead, he quickly slipped away from the crowd of students making their way toward Gryffindor Tower, disappearing down a dark corridor. Sirius and I grinned, waving Remus and Peter goodbye as we rushed off after him.

It wasn’t long before we heard two pairs of footsteps following after us, and Peter squealing, “Wait up! Wait up!”

“Shut up Peter,” James hissed, suddenly catching Peter ‘round the middle and covering his mouth with his palm, “Do you want to get us caught, then?” Peter shook his head and James dropped his hand from his mouth, “Then shut up.”

The five of us snuck along down the corridor and ‘round a corner, where we clustered around James as he pulled out the list of passageways we’d gotten from the little alcove in the Trophy Room passage, and he muttered, “Lumos,” illuminating the words on the page.

“We should’ve brought our map,” I groaned.

James grinned and reached in his book bag, producing the map and the quills we’d been using to create it. “I was thinking ahead,” he said.

“You bloody genius!” Sirius hissed and passed the parchment and quills on to Remus, who we’d all decided was the best at drawing the actual details after Remus had spent some time adding in the Trophy Room corridor the other night in the common room. “Here you are, cartographer,” Sirius said.

Remus tucked the quills into his pockets and unfolded the map carefully. “So where are we off to, then?” he asked, looking over the map.

“I think we should do the humpbacked witch,” James replied, “But I reckon there’s probably loads of people ‘round it right now trying to get into the common room.” I peered ‘round the corner of the bend in the corridor we’d ducked down, listening for the sounds of anybody on the stairs, but it sounded as though everyone might’ve gotten past those by now.

“It’s too bad we couldn’t see where people are on the map, that would be dead helpful,” Sirius said. “Imagine if we could see where Filch was all the time?”

Remus said, “Well that would take some sort of advanced charm, I’d imagine, linking the map to the actual floor somehow.”

Sirius looked at Remus with a raised eyebrow, “What?”

“Sure,” Remus said, “If there was a charm that could somehow tell the map to project the floor itself...maybe some sort of detection charm’s on the floor, like in the carpets, and the carpet sort of relays the information onto the map…”

“There’s a spell that could do that?” Peter asked, incredulous.

“Dunno,” replied Remus.

“That would be ruddy brilliant,” I said.

“An alternative would be to put some sort of tracing spell on everyone in the castle,” Remus said.

“That would take forever,” James said. “Imagine, having to put a spell on everyone in the castle? It’s not as though they’d line up for it and pass us one by one.” He laughed at the thought of it.

But Remus shrugged, “You’d cast it on a doorway so that everyone who passes through the doorway is sort of registered and then the map is charmed so that anyone who has the spell on them is projected onto the map.”

Sirius’ eyes widened, “You know how to do that stuff?”

“This is all theoretical,” answered Remus, “I dunno if any of it is even possible.”

“Well it would be quite spiffing if it was!” I said.

Peter squeaked, “Well that doesn’t help us tonight and if we stay here much longer Mrs. Norris is sure to sniff us out. What are we doing right now?”

“Hold onto your knickers Peter,” James answered, “Bloody hell, how are you a Gryffindor, being such a coward?”

“I’m not a coward,” muttered Peter moodily.

Sirius grinned, “What if Remus showed us the passageway in the Whomping Willow?” he suggested. “We could add that onto the map.”

“Yeah!” exclaimed James, lighting up.

Remus, however, didn’t look nearly as excited. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” he mumbled.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because…” He trailed off. I suddenly understood his reservations. That was where he went during the full moons, it’s not like he’s got fond memories of the place.

“C’mon Re,” groaned Sirius, “Please?”

Remus shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously.

“Well why aren’t you calling him a coward?” Peter demanded of James, “He’s hesitating as much as I’d done!”

Remus’ face reddened. “I’m not afraid of showing you lot the Whomping Willow, I just don’t know if...oh bloody hell, c’mon,” he said, and he quickly led the way back ‘round the corner of the corridor, heading for the Entrance Hall. James, Sirius, and I exchanged gleeful expressions and Peter hurried to keep up with us, panting as he practically ran after us down the corridor.

I could hardly believe we were going to be seeing such a cool passageway at long last and my insides tingled with excitement. We paused to put the invisibility cloak over us before going down the staircase, just in case any faculty had lingered behind in the Great Hall. I could hear Filch whistling lowly...it sounded like some sort of funeral dirge, and the schwoop, schwoop as he dragged his broom across the floor of the hall, cleaning up. We snuck past the door to the Great Hall as quietly as we could and out the main doors of the castle.

Outside, we ran across the grounds, trying to keep the invisibility cloak on, but not being as careful about it as perhaps we should’ve been. Peter tripped over his own shoelace and lost his footing, falling to the grass and being fully revealed, running the last ten or twenty feet in the pale moonlight, exposed. He glanced back at the castle, afraid that somebody might be watching. 

When we reached the edge of the Willow, Remus told us to stop and we all stopped, standing clustered together, and Peter scrambled back as w took off the cloak.

“You lot left me behind!” he complained.

“Sorry Pete,” Sirius said, “We didn’t notice you gone.”

“How could you not notice me gone?” he demanded.

“What’s so scary about this tree, anyway?” I asked, trying to prevent a row. I stared up at the seemingly peaceful branches of the Whomping Willow. And then, as though insulted by my question, the Willow shook itself and one of the long tendrils reached out and knocked me over by pushing me in the shoulder. I fell with a thump onto my bottom on the grass, eyes wide.

James laughed, “You got bested by a bloody tree, Stratford!”

“Yeah, notice you took a step back, too, Potter,” I grumbled, getting up and dusting myself off, careful to stay a few steps out of the tree’s reach. I’ll be bruised for a while, I hope this doesn’t impact Quidditch, I thought, rubbing my shoulder. The tree had packed a surprisingly good punch. James and Sirius were still laughing from beneath the invisibility cloak.

Remus, meanwhile, had selected a good-sized rock. “Watch out, you lot,” he muttered and he took aim for the knot at the base of the tree.

“Blimey!” Sirius exclaimed as the rock hit the knot, freezing the Whomping Willow. “Why aren’t you on the Quidditch team? Aim like that, you ought to be a Chaser. You could get the Quaffle through the hoop with no trouble!”

“I’m not a Quidditch sort of guy,” Remus replied with a shrug. “Too many of the practices and games would conflict with the full moon. C’mon, hurry, before it wakes up again.” He hurried us under the hanging branches and James stuffed the cloak into his bag as we ran. I eyed the branches suspiciously, not sure I trusted them not to push me down again. Remus led the way, followed by Sirius, then me. Peter got stuck in the hole, his girth a bit wider than the hole, and James had to shove him down with a grunt. James only just got through the hole behind Peter himself as the tree began to stir.

“It’s dark down here!” commented Sirius, squinting into the darkness. 

“Lumos,” Remus said, and his wand lit up a good deal of the passageway with still no end in sight. “It goes all the way to the Shrieking Shack,” he reminded us, “You won’t see the end for some time.”

“Now what?” I asked, shaking the dust off James’ back where he’d landed ungracefully leaping through the hole after Peter.

“Now we walk,” Remus answered with a shrug and he turned to lead the way off through the darkness to the Shrieking Shack.

***

James’ voice echoed through the tunnel. “Bloody hell...we’ve been walking forever.” Really, it had only been about ten minutes. Our wands lit up the dark passageway, roots and stones sticking out here and there from the compact dirt that made up the walls, ceiling and floor of the tunnel. Peter was looking warily up at the ceiling, as though expecting it to cave in, and kept tripping over his own robes. “How much longer?” James whined.

“Not much,” Remus answered. “We’re nearly there now.”

“Bloody hell, this is the longest tunnel ever,” James complained.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” I demanded, turning my wand back to light up James’ face.

James batted the wand away as Peter ducked under my outstretched arm. “Don’t point that thing at me, Stratford,” he said in a mockingly angry tone, a smile spreading across his mouth, “Unless you mean to challenge me to a duel?”

“Because you in a duel is such a frightening thing?” I chided him, “I saw you against Snape. I’m not worried.”

James raised his wand, “Oh?”

Remus cleared his throat, and Sirius was snickering.

Well all looked up.

“If you two aren’t too busy hexing one another back there, we’ve arrived.” Remus waved his hand behind him and illuminated a trap door that Peter’s back end was just wriggling through.

“Brilliant,” James grinned, and he leaped past Sirius and I, headed for the trap door, to follow Peter in.

I smirked as James bounded off. “What lucky timing for you, Potter, just before I was about to blast you to smithereens!” Sirius gave me a leg up, since I was the shortest. He soon followed, and soon enough, all five of us were standing in the little kitchen of the Shrieking Shack.

It was truly a mess in there. A year of being inhabited by a werewolf on the full moon would do that to a place. There were broken bits of furniture and ripped papers and books around the floor, shattered plates and spots where Remus had bitten himself so hard that blood had been drawn and the blood had stained the floorboards. The windows were boarded up, curtains shredded in strips from having been clawed. There was a small ratty ball of blankets in the corner, covered with big clumps of fur.

“Shedding, are you, mate?” Sirius asked with a nervous laugh.

This was the first time we’d really seen any actual evidence of Remus’ transformations. It was the closest encounter we’d yet had with the werewolf within him. Remus looked quite uncomfortable, his face turning red as we looked about his “lair”. He stared down at his feet, not paying us any attention. Peter looked downright terrified.

Seeing the look of shame on Remus’ face, I decided to make the best of things. “This is spiffing!” I declared, looking about the torn-up interior of the Shack as though it were the Taj Mahal. “I mean, sure, it’s a bit gloomy, but for the most part it’s rather brilliant.”

James seemed to follow suit, fixing a chair that had been knocked over, but not actually broken, and set himself into it, tossing his feet up on another chair and leaning back as though he was in the lap of luxury. “Rather like a clubhouse, really, isn’t it? I wouldn’t mind coming here once a month!”

Remus scowled, “You might once the moon rises and your skin starts to boil fur out of you. Your spine cracks a dozen times and your feet split up into paws and claws. Your face feels like it’s stretching, or melting, like wax, and you gnaw your own flesh raw as you go insane.”

We all paused in what we were doing to stare at Remus in shock and horror...horror far greater than the looks we’d worn when we’d seen the state of the Shack itself for now it wasn’t the Shack that was a mess, it was Remus himself. My eyes moved to Remus’ arms, remembering the scars there.

“I’m just saying it’s not all fun and games out here,” Remus muttered, tucking his arms behind him and turning away from us. “I don’t come here to have adventures, don’t forget. What happens to me here is terrible and I hate it and I hate myself when I’m here. Look at how awful I am.” He waved his hand about the colossal mess. He bent down and picked up one of the ruined books on the floor. It was his History of Magic textbook from first year...and it was absolutely destroyed.

“Did you tell Binns that a dog ate your homework?” Sirius asked, pointing at the book, a smirk growing on his face.

Remus tossed the book into a rubbish bin. “Can we go back to Hogwarts now, please?”

“I’m only joking, Re,” Sirius said. “Trying to lighten the mood a bit, you know?” He nudged Remus’ side a bit with his elbow. “You know we aren’t judging you for all this, yeah?”

Remus nodded, though a bit bitterly.

“Do you want to put the tunnel on the map?” James asked.

Remus hesitated, tugging the map from his pocket and staring down at the parchment. “I s’pose. But the Shack won’t fit. It’s too far off the grounds.” He went over to the table and laid the parchment flat, pulling the quills out of his pockets as well. He hesitated, the quill hovering over the Whomping Willow. “What if this ends up in bad hands?” he asked, looking ‘round at the others. “What if we lose it and someone else figures out how to get in here and I’m found out? What if it’s on a night with a full moon and I...I attack someone?” 

“Then best hope it’s Snape,” Sirius joked with a laugh.

I put my palm over Remus’ hand. “Hey. I won’t let that happen, mate, alright? We’ll keep the map safe. And if anyone ever tried to get down here...well, I’d stop ‘em myself, alright? We’ll protect you. Always.”

Remus took a deep breath. “Alright,” he said, and with a sweeping motion, he quickly drew in the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow, leading off to the edge of the parchment. He stared down at the passage he’d drawn and blew on the ink to help dry it. “Well, there you have it,” he said, and he reached up to fold the map back onto itself until it fit into his robe pockets. The four of us had clustered around him, Peter eating the pasties he’d shoved into his pocket, James smiling reassuringly, my hand on Remus’ shoulder, and Sirius beaming with excitement as he looked ‘round the room at everything. Remus smiled back at me.

We all traipsed back through the long tunnel and onto Hogwarts grounds, laughing and poking one another as we made our way through the passageway. James and Sirius and I sang a song we’d heard on the radio that Lily had one of the nights hanging out in the Gryffindor common room, by a Muggle named James Taylor, our arms slung over each other’s shoulders.

“Just call out my name and you know wherever I am, I will come running to see you again...winter, spring, summer or fall...all you gotta do is call...and I’ll be there…”

Peter looked up at Remus and offered him one of the pasties from his pocket. Remus took it and they ate as they walked, watching Sirius, James, and I trip over each other’s robes, laughing and singing loudly. 

When we reached the end of the tunnel, Remus showed us the lever within that immobilised the tree and we all got out of the hole - except Peter, who needed to be pulled out by Remus and James while Sirius and I shoved him up from below. They tumbled across the grass as Peter’s weight gave way and he spilled from the tunnel’s mouth. When Sirius and I had climbed out from behind him and the hole had sealed itself back up, we ran out from under the tree’s branches, still laughing and singing as we went up the path to the stairs that led up to the castle. We were so busy talking that we never paused to consider that we hadn’t put on the invisibility cloak…

James pushed open the door of the castle and stepped into the Entrance Hall, followed by me, Sirius, Peter and the Remus, and the moment the door of the castle closed behind us, we heard the clear voice behind us inside the castle and froze, our palms against the door.

“Oh bloody hell,” muttered James.

All five of us turned around slowly and there, sitting on the third step up from the bottom, clutching his mangy old cat and stroking her head, was Mr. Filch. Mrs. Norris purred loudly, her tail swishing about as she sat in Filch’s arms contentedly, watching on at our discomfort. 

“My, my, my,” croaked Filch, grinning so that the gold teeth in his jaw glinted a bit in the torchlight, “Thought it might be a good night for a walk, did’ja?”

“A bit nippy, actually,” I answered boldly, “Think we’ll just pop off to bed now, but thanks for waiting up for us. C’mon, lads.” I started to move up the steps and James started to follow. But the others stared on with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Filch, however, stuck out his palm and stopped me midstep, a grin creeping across his face and his eyes twinkling evilly.

Oh, how horrible our detentions were. They were absolutely terrible.


	17. 3rd and 4th November, 1972

3rd November, 1972

It’s the night before the first Quidditch game of the season, and Derek Bell had called everyone down to the common room for a pep talk. We sat ‘round the fire, the whole house of Gryffindor, and Derek stood up on the little coffee table and looked ‘round at us team members. “Tomorrow, we face off against Hufflepuff,” he said, “Now, Hufflepuff historically doesn’t have the best team, but they’ve got a couple of new Beaters that are rumoured to be particularly good, so that means you two - Weasley and Longbottom - you’ll have your work cut out for you keeping our Chasers on their brooms. Sabrina, in practice, you’ve been a bit flighty about the Bludgers. Be sure to keep out watch for them tomorrow - we don’t need anybody falling off their brooms and getting injured. Potter, you, too.” Derek paced a moment, and took a deep breath. “I just know this team can win, alright, you lot? I know we can. I worked hard curating you all, and I want to include a majority of you on the All Star team for the match against Ilvermorny. But you’ve got to be spiffing during the season if I’m going to do that, so let’s show Hogwarts who their Quidditch champions are! Let’s rock that pitch tomorrow like they’ve never seen before!”

“Here, here! Shouted Bilius, raising a bottle of butterbeer, which Peter had nicked from the kitchens for the occasion of the pep rally. The entire house clapped at the words.

Derek turned, jumping down off the little table, and magicked a box onto it. It was a rather large box, and he opened it up and pulled out James and I’s official game uniforms, our names sewn into the back cover of our numbers. “Wow,” I murmured, running my palm over the letters - STRATFORD. I beamed at the gold letters happily, seeing the number 24. James was number 16.

When Derek had finished handing out our uniforms, he cleared his throat and sent us to bed, saying it was important that we all get a good night’s sleep as we would need our energy for the game tomorrow. He stayed in the common room himself only long enough to shoo the other players off. James and I quickly gave each other an excited hug before we split ways.

In my dorm, I quickly forgot the task of going to sleep and wriggled the Quidditch jumper over my head. The sleeves were miles too long and the whole thing was a bit too loose. I shook the hands out of the ends of the sleeves and nervously looked at myself in the mirror, frowning. “It’s too big,” I complained.

Lily giggled, “Good luck trying to catch the Quaffle with those sleeves!”

“What’s the spell to cut fabric? I need to cut these down.” I asked.

“Don’t cut it,” Lily said, “That’ll look awful.” She came ‘round the end of our beds and took out her wand, tapping the sleeves of the jumper. “Reducio,” she commanded. The whole jumper shrunk just a bit - just until it was snug as it should be. “There you are.”

I beamed, “I swear, Lils, you really are a genius.”

Lily shrugged, “Just a simple Shrinking Charm, not a big deal at all.”

4th November, 1972

This morning, I was extremely nervous and could barely eat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Bilius however kept shoving eggs onto me and James insisting that we eat them. “Protein helps with the playing!” he persisted.

James looked about. “Where’s Derek?” he asked, and I too noticed the captain of the team was missing.

“Dunno,” Bilius replied. “Reckon he’s probably gotten up early to head down to the pitch ahead of us or something. He was already gone when Andy and I got up this morning.”

“Oh,” James said. I began thinking, that sounds rather odd. What could Derek possibly have to do that would take that long down by the pitch? But I had more pressing matters to ponder as Bilius loaded up our plates with even more eggs.

James groaned, clutching his stomach in protest. “If I eat even one more bite of egg, I’m going to burst!”

I mumbled, “I’ve been full since the second round.”

There was a fine mist hovering over the grounds of the castle as we made our way out to the pitch a bit early for the game. James and I followed the veteran players into the Gryffindor locker room. I expected to find Derek there, but he was nowhere to be seen. I turned to Bilius. “I thought Derek was out here?” I asked.

Bilius shrugged, “Dunno where he is, then. I thought he was out here, too.” He didn’t seem interested in discussing it, though, he was too busy polishing his Beater’s bat with a smelly liquid.

James sat on one of the long benches, double-knotting up his laces on his trainers, while I attempted to braid my hair like the way Lily taught me. After a few failed attempts, however, I gave up, and settled for a simple ponytail to keep my hair out of my face.

Bilius had finished polishing his bat and was now rubbing it down with a sort of sandpaper. Frank Longbottom was doing the same a little ways away. The energy in the locker room was intense, like a bubbling anticipation that almost ached, it was so thick and heavy. But it was slowly turning into anxiety as the sounds of the stands filling up with spectators echoed down through the locker room and we realised the game was getting closer and closer and we still hadn’t seen Derek Bell.

“What do we do if he doesn’t show up?” I heard Andy Tinnamin whisper nervously to Bilius, “We’ll be short a Chaser.”

“Dunno,” whispered Bilius, “He swore he’d be back before the game.”

I realised then that Bilius knew a lot more about Derek’s whereabouts than he was letting on and I inched a bit closer, trying to be inconspicuous, using the little pitcher of water and nearby cups for an excuse why I was hovering the way I was, listening in to their whispered conversation,

“I told him it wasn’t a good idea,” Bilius was continuing. “But I swear he’s addicted.”

Andy sighed, “Ruddy git he is.”

Bilius shrugged. “I think it helps him is all, he’s still going through so much...what with his parents dying and then his sister, too...I can’t imagine. He’s the only one left in his family.”

“Yeah, but…” Andy grunted. He didn’t know how to cordially finish the sentence, and I knew what he was implying. And I didn’t blame him for not wanting to say that Quidditch was more important.

“He’ll get here,” Bilius said, though he sounded less sure than he’d probably meant to.

Bilius was right of course, Derek did show up, but only just in time. He was still tugging on his jumper as we walked out onto the field at Madam Hooch’s whistle and he scrambled to grab his broom from Andy, who had carried it out onto the pitch for him. He ducked to the front of the little crowd of Gryffindor players to walk to the centre of the field and shake hands with the Hufflepuff team captain.

“Good luck,” he offered.

“You too,” answered the Hufflepuff captain.

The game began soon after, and in the stands Sirius, Remus and Peter held up a little sign they’d made, reading “GO POTTER AND STRATFORD!” on it. I saw them jumping and clapping in the corner of my eye as I soared through the air with James, passing the Quaffle and dodging bludgers.

Derek had been right about the Hufflepuff Beaters, they were very good. The Bludgers were flying extra hard about the field. I found myself having to dodge them so often, I couldn’t get near the rings to put the Quaffle through to score because I kept having to somersault out of the way of the Bludgers. I passed the Quaffle to James, who had scored several times as a result. He was so quick and zippy on a broom that he seemed to have less trouble avoiding the path of the Bludgers than I did. 

Bilius and Frank had to cover me pretty close as the Beaters seemed to be aiming for me. News had travelled about the castle about my skills for a Muggleborn, and my tiny stature made me a bit of a target anyway. Besides, the third Chaser, Derek, seemed distracted as he flew about and he managed to fumble the Quaffle a couple times. He was the first to be struck by a Bludger, too. Despite all that, the score was deeply skewed in Gryffindor’s favour, and the Seekers were looking a bit nervous hovering over the pitch way up there, watching and waiting for the Snitch to make itself seen. Either Seeker capturing the Snitch could win the match because Gryffindor was not quite 150 up on Hufflepuff, and there was a lot of pressure. Tinnamin held onto his broom, scanning the grass for a hint of gold, his palms sweating against the shaft of his broomstick.

I think James and I were certainly proving ourselves quite well as Chasers. The commentator even mentioned the fact that the two of us second year Chasers were doing better on the Gryffindor team than our seventh year counterparts last year.

Derek called a time-out when our team was up by 120 points on Hufflepuff. He landed on the damp grass, followed by the rest of us players on the Gryffindor team. “Everything alright, mate?” Bilius asked the moment he set foot on the ground, looking at Derek with concern. “You seem a bit...er...distracted out there.” 

Derek frowned, “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I’m sorry, guys.” 

“After all the chasing us off to bed that you’d done, you didn’t go right to bed?” Frank Longbottom asked, shaking his head, “Oi, Derek, talk about hypocrisy!”

“I know,” Derek said, abashed, “Some...er...things came up. Potter...Stratford...you two are doing brilliantly.”

James puffed up with pride. “Thanks!” I said, whipping my ponytail over my shoulder from where it had come ‘round the front.

Bilius eyed Derek carefully.

“I’m alright. Really. I just needed some water,” Derek said, “I’ll be right back.” He ducked away into the Gryffindor locker room.

Madam Hooch landed behind us, “Everything alright over here?”

“Yeah, we’re alright, Derek just needed a cup of water,” Bilius informed her. “Soon as he’s back on the pitch we’ll be ready to go again.”

Madam Hooch nodded and took off again to relay the information to the Hufflepuff team.

Andy Tinnamin and Bilius were sharing a look that I was pretty sure was a whole conversation, but I didn't know what they were saying with the expression son their faces, though they certainly did, and it ended with Bilius shrugging as Derek came back onto the pitch a moment later, his face wet from having splashed water on it. “Alright,” he said, “Let’s get back into the air and get this thing shut down.” He took a deep breath and waved to Madam Hooch as we rose up into the air once more.

I thought it was funny that Bilius and Andy seemed to know what was going on and I wondered what Derek had really been up to all night if he hadn’t slept. Whatever it was must’ve been mighty important to get Derek’s mind off Quidditch, though, and it had my curiosity piqued. I stashed away a mental note to mention it to James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, so that we could investigate what was going on.

But for now, the most important thing to me is Quidditch.

Refreshed from the time-out, Derek scored another goal almost immediately after play resumed. Gryffindor was now 130 up on Hufflepuff. The Bludgers were coming at me, James and Derek at unbelievable speed as the Hufflepuff Beaters got more and more frustrated. A Bludger got past Frank and hit me in the ankle at one point, and I let out a scream. Madam Hooch called a foul on Hufflepuff, allowing me to make a shot on an unblocked goal, which I easily made.

At 210 to 70, the match had been anything but uneventful. 140 points ahead, I was far from comfortable with our lead, however, as all it would take was...and then it happened, just as I was thinking it. The Hufflepuff Seeker suddenly broke into a dive, his broom pointed straight downward, arm outstretched as he shot through the air. I followed the trajectory and sure enough there was the Snitch, hovering near the ground, but directly on target for the Seeker’s aim. My heart leapt into my throat. “ANDY!”

Tinnamin had just spotted the Hufflepuff Seeker’s dive and broke into one as well, though he had considerable ground to gain before he could even hope of capturing the little golden ball.

I looked about for the Quaffle and saw one of the Hufflepuff players just above me, about to pass the Quaffle to another. I took a deep breath. This was quite a moment. I had to beat the Seeker’s speed to the Snitch with my own speed to the Quaffle. I shot upward, clutching my broomstick and laying as low to the handle as I could to allow the air to flow ‘round me as smooth as possible. I reached up and knocked the Quaffle out of its pass, tucking it quickly beneath my own elbow as I turned the broomstick with a jerk. People in the stands were gasping - whether for me or the neck-to-neck race between the two Seekers far off below as they swooped together to follow the Snitch around the curve of the south end of the pitch. Both had their arms stretched out, practically standing on their brooms for all the reach they were giving...I moved toward the rings, my heart slamming about in my rib cage. With an almighty thrust, I shoved the ball through the air. The Quaffle left my fingertips, soaring through the left ring, only just out of reach of the diving Keeper. Very nearly simultaneously, the Snitch was captured below by the Hufflepuff Seeker.

The Hufflepuff onlookers in the stands went ballistic, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle several times over and they froze in their celebrations, staring out at the pitch in disbelief. “Score from Sabrina Stratford on Gryffindor’s side as well as Pavlov catching the Snitch! 220 to 220! BLIMEY! A TIE!” The commentator’s voice echoed ‘round the pitch and the Hufflepuff students looked flabbergasted.

“What happens in a tie?” I yelled to James, who simply shrugged. I guess ties don’t typically happen.

Madam Hooch called a time-out and consulted the official game rules book in the locker room. Tension built in the stands and on the pitch as we huddled together in our teams in the misty air.

“Good one, Sabrina,” said Derek, giving me a quick high-five in midair.

“Yeah, awesome job, Stratford,” agreed Tinnamin, while Bilius, Frank, and Jacob Woodhouse all grinned at me. James looked ever so deflated that he wasn’t the star in this moment, but he gave me an encouraging grin nonetheless.

Madam Hooch returned after several long moments and flew up through the air to where Dumbledore sat in the stands and whispered in his ear.

When she’d pulled away, Dumbledore was grinning. He pointed his wand to his throat and magically amplified his voice about the pitch. “In the event of a tie, we enter sudden death overtime.” There was an excited murmur that went through the stands and Derek’s eyes were wide with excitement...he was certainly in the game now! Dumbledore went on, “Each team shall take turns one-by-one shooting on the hoops: the first team to score an unmatched goal will be declared the winner.”

Derek looked ‘round at all us quickly. “Potter. You shoot.”

James’ eyes widened, “Me?” he squeaked.

Derek nodded. “You got this.”

“Yeah, go on, James!” I said.

James smirked and flew forward as Madam Hooch waved for the first two shooters to go. Hufflepuff won the toss and they were the first to try to shoot on the rings and James hung back, watching as the sixth year Chaser that had scored nearly all of Hufflepuff’s goals for the whole game - a girl with auburn hair - took aim and flew toward Woodhouse at the Gryffindor end of the pitch.

Woodhouse crouched against his broom in the goal, heaving with nerves, and the Chaser shot...Woodhouse dove spectacularly and his fingers scraped the Quaffle, but despite his valiant effort, the ball still soared through the far right ring. “Damn it!” Woodhouse shouted as the Hufflepuff girl swooped about to the loud applause of the Hufflepuff spectators.

“Here you are, Potter,” Madam Hooch said, handing him the Quaffle. “Make the goal to stay alive.”

I could see James’ hands shake ever so slightly as he took hold on the ball and flew down the length of the pitch toward the Hufflepuff Keeper. He sped up, and at the very last moment, he switched hands and palmed the Quaffle through the right ring with all his might.

The Gryffindor side of the pitch exploded with excitement.

“230 to 230!” shouted the commentator.

Derek looked at me. “Go,” he said.

I nodded and I heard Sirius, Remus and Peter all screaming in excitement as I flew out to meet Madam Hooch and the second shooter for the Hufflepuff team. So much was riding on this. I just hoped I didn’t goof it up.

The Hufflepuff Chaser sped off down the pitch. Woodhouse had come forward a bit off the rings and was ready, broom trembling with energy. When the Chaser shot the ball, he tilted the broom and took the Quaffle right in the chest. It bounced off his protective gear and Madam Hooch swarmed down to catch it before it hit the ground. Hufflepuff spectators were now booing loudly.

“Here you are, Stratford,” Madam Hooch said, tossing the ball to me. “Make this goal and you’ll have won the match for Gryffindor.”

The Quaffle had never felt so heavy.

I sat in the centre of the pitch, staring down the length of it toward the rings and I felt sick to my stomach as the pitch seemed to grow longer and longer as I stared off at the shrinking Hufflepuff Keeper. I swallowed, nerves rising up within me,

It started slowly...lowly...just Sirius at first but then Remus and Peter and then the other Gryffindors and soon the Ravenclaws, too… “Stratford! Stratford! Stratford! Stratford! STRATFORD! STRATFORD! STRATFORD!” My name was echoing around the pitch, and it was like a dream. I felt the energy of it building me up, reconstructing my nerves and I grinned widely as I flew down the pitch...and sunk the Quaffle right past the Hufflepuff Keeper, ending the game in Gryffindor’s favour.


	18. 7th and 8th November, 1972

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SheRipper says, "YASS!! go girl!! great victory, the first of many to come! awesome! loved this chapter, poor derek, how does he even function by this point, with everything that happened to him... i bet he's probably the student crying with the new teacher, maybe they're friends or distant relatives who knows? anyways, great chapter, thanks for posting it, and i hope you're well in these chaotic times (i debated over the word chaotic for a long time unsure what to use)"
> 
> Yes, Quidditch went swimmingly! It'll be especially interesting once the Americans come later in the term! I guess you'll be seeing how Derek functions in this chapter. Also, glad to see your enthusiastic commenting return!
> 
> ThisBookisAwesome wrote a comment that I'm not going to paste here, as it's a bit on the lengthy side. But WOW, it made my day!!! You're so kind! And yes, I have some interesting dynamics with Sabrina and Lily planned. But it's going to take a whiiiile, so hold tight! And I hope you don't have anxiety about this, that would be unfortunate :( Butttt, just because Alice Bell is dead, doesn't mean she's Neville's mother. I won't say any more on the subject hahaha.

7th November, 1972

Snow began falling over the grounds of Hogwarts like a whisper. Students were out on the lawns having snowball fights - we Gryffindor second years among them. Sirius had applauded rather loudly when James aimed a large snowball perfectly between the shoulders of Severus Snape as the Slytherins and Ravenclaws had crossed the grounds, headed to their Herbology lesson. The snowball had knocked Severus over into the bank and gave him a snow burn on his hands as he fell. He stood up, soaked, and dusted off the white powder, anger radiating off him.

Severus scowled at us, then continued on his way, following after Rosier toward the greenhouses.

“What’s the matter, Snivelly?” called James, “Did the snow wash some of that grease from your head?”

“Good one, James,” I laughed so hard there were tears in my eyes, and Sirius and I high-fived.

Peter had mimicked James and tried throwing a snowball at one of the other Slytherins but the ball didn’t make it anywhere near far enough to actually hit anybody. We also were already bored with the Slytherins’ progression across the lawns, and turned to work on building a snow fort instead. 

8th November, 1972

Each year, the students in third year and higher were allowed to visit the wizarding village of Hogsmeade, not far from the grounds of Hogwarts. This evening was a particularly chilly one, and the common room was a mess of shivering first and second years jostling to get closer to the fire. Since the older students had gone to Hogsmeade for the day, the common room was delightfully accessible for us. James and Sirius managed to squish together onto the chair closest to the fire. Peter lay on the floor at their feet, biting his tongue as he worked at writing an essay from notes that Remus had lent him from Defense.

I was across the room, bundled up in several jumpers and working on Charms homework with Lily and Remus at the table. Ali Fortescue sat between Lily and I, elbowing us now and again for some help out with her homework, too.

“Sorry I keep bothering you,” Ali said after she’d interrupted us several times.

“No worries,” Lily replied with a smile, “I’m happy to help.”

“Us, too,” I answered, referring to Remus and I.

Ali smiled and turned back to her work.

Suddenly the portrait hole burst open and in traipsed some of the older students, laughing uproariously. “That git is going to be in big trouble if McGonagall sees him like that,” giggled one of the fifth year girls. “Can’t imagine how he managed to get a hold of a bottle of Firewhiskey anyway. He’s underage, isn’t he?”

“Think so,” said one of the girl’s friends, her eyes twinkling. “I imagine he wooed it out of the bar mistresses with those eyes…” she sighed dreamily.

“Probably!” laughed the first girl, “That sounds like him. But he won’t be able to woo the anger out of McGonagall when she finds out he’s been drinking! Not that she will...friends with the Head Boy and all…”

I was about to ask who was getting in trouble for drinking Firewhiskey when I got my answer...a very noisy answer at that. Derek Bell, hanging over the arms of Bilius Weasley and Andy Tinnamin, stumbled on through the doorway, barely held on his feet by his friends. He was singing in a booming voice. I looked ‘round at Remus, who had lowered the textbook he’d been reading to look at the three of them coming in the doorway. Derek was quite obviously intoxicated.

I raised an eyebrow. “Well then.”

“HULLO GRYFFINDORS!” shouted Derek boisterously, “What are you lot up to up here? Being all quiet in our absence! You need ta learn and have a lit’l fun!”

“Isn’t that the Head Boy with him?” muttered one of the first years in surprise, looking ‘round that the three boys struggling through the portrait hole.

My eyes darted to the girl who had said it, and then back to Derek, Andy and Bilius. Lily looked shocked. “What have you lot been up to?” she asked solemnly, “Certainly looks as though it’s been no good, whatever it is.”

“Oh it’s beenplentygood,” slurred Derek.

Andy said, “Glad somebody thinks so.” he tugged on Derek’s arm, trying to keep him balanced as Derek tripped over his own two feet. Luckily, Andy was strong or else Derek’s weight would’ve crushed him.

Lily stood up and put her hands on her hips in a sassy manner, “You lot have been drinking, haven’t you?”

“We lot have not,” Bilius replied, “Him, yes. We, no.” he pulled Derek his way to relieve some of the weight he was putting onto Andy.

“A little drink never killed nobody,” Derek slurred.

Lily scowled, “Never helped anybody at being a better person, either, though, has it?”

“Helped them having a better time of being a person!” Derek said, laughing. “Haven’t you heard the news, Evans?”

“What news?” I spoke up, a flurry of worry moving through me.

“The news! The news!” Derek crowed, “Been all over the radio, innit?” He shook his head and broke away from Bilius and Andy, who nearly tripped into each other with Derek’s sudden departure from between them. “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is getting more powerful by the minute. Muggles dying everywhere...he’s killin’ ‘em, and anybody stands in his way, he kills them too. Oh, it’s awful. If you ain’t heard, you should stay out of it. Keep yourself innocent and unknowin’...it’s the only way to deal with it without drink, you know. And worse than all that, he’s threatenin’ goin’ after the Ministry next. Anybody that goes against him, he says, he’s goin’ ter take out.”

“Well bloody hell, what’s Voldemort got to do with you lot drinking Firewhiskey?” Lily demanded, “How does you getting piss drunk and falling all over the castle help in stopping what’s going on out there? Has You-Know-Who decided to surrender to the sound of drinking songs?”

BIlius slapped Derek on the back, “Maybe if he heard how off-key this one is, he might.”

“Says the greatest chanteuse I ever heard,” Derek crowed. Andy laughed so hard that a hiccup escaped him and he stumbled a bit, catching Derek ‘round the elbow to steady himself.

“Even drunk he uses a five-galleon word like chanteuse,” Bilius shook his head in marvel at his best mate.

Lily’s eyes narrowed, “I expect you feel real damn good about yourself, sloshing about like a bunch of idiots, then?”

“Again,” Bilius said, “We are not sloshing about like a bunch of anything. He got a bit of Firewhiskey at the Hog’s Head and…”

Derek laughed, “Sure we do!” he answered, interrupting Bilius, and he pounded a fist to his chest, “Might not do a whole lot to help anybody else, but the drink sure does a helluva job making it hurt less in here!”

Lily’s voice was cold, “Firewhiskey is not the answer to your problems, Derek Bell, and you know it. You could drink all the Firewhiskey on the planet and it wouldn’t bring Alice or your parents back.”

“Oi, aren’t you a smart one, figuring out what’s s’matter with me?” Derek laughed and he rolled his eyes, “Think you know everything about me, just because you were mates with my sister? Well, Lily, you don’t and I’d appreciate it if you’d sod off and let me drink Firewhiskey if that’s what I say helps my problems!”

Lily scowled, “Fine. Drink it all you want, then. I don’t care. But I’m telling McGonagall.”

“So tell her then,” he snapped, “Go on and tell her like a little rat. I don’t give a damn if you do. Maybe she’ll realise I’m not a child and she can pass the message on to her little friends in the bloody Resistance.” Derek rolled his eyes and shoved past Andy and up the stairs to the dorms. “I’ll kill Voldemort myself if they’d let me fight!” he was shouting, his voice echoing back into the common room, “He hasn’t got a soul!” he slammed the dorm room door.

“Oh, bloody hell,” muttered Bilius, “See what you’ve done then, Evans? He was perfectly happy ‘til you got into it. What’d you go and do that for?:

Lily folded her arms over her chest. “Well somebody had to, didn’t they? Seeing as the Head Boy is currently too much of a coward to tell on his mate and all. You should be ashamed of yourself. Head Boy and you’re not even doing the right thing.” She shook her head, “I thought you were better than that, Bilius Weasley, but I suppose I was wrong.”

“You certainly were,” Bilius replied. “I’m not going to turn in a mate who’s already going through a bloody helluva time without being expelled by McGonagall! Think about it, Lily, he’d be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”

“Is that all you lot think about is Quidditch? So what if the team loses a couple games! It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things!” Lily crowed.

“Quidditch is all Derek has going for him this semester,” Bilius snapped. “I don’t think that any action he partakes in to numb the pain he’s in should be punished by taking away the one good thing he has left, alright? Call me a nutter, but that’s how it is. Do with it as you please, but don’t go calling me a coward for trying to protect my best friend.” With that, he turned and nodded for Andy to follow him on up to the seventh year dorms after Derek.

“Wonder how he did get Firewhiskey?” I wondered, settling back beside Ali and Remus.

“They said at the Hog’s Head,” answered Remus.

James snickered, “I wouldn’t mind trying a bit of Firewhiskey myself.”

Lily’s eyes turned on him even hotter than the Firewhiskey might’ve been. Sirius nudged James and he swallowed nervously. “I didn’t mean now,” he added, looking at Lily with a bit of fear behind his eyes, “I meant when I’m older, you know, when it’s more appropriate. When you wouldn’t bloody look at me like that for it. Blimey.”

“Yeah, Lily, c’mon,” Sirius said, grinning in a charming manner, “We wouldn’t go off drinking Firewhiskey, we’re underage! When have we ever done anything that’s against the rules?”

“Every bloody day, I expect, whether you’re caught at it or not,” Lily replied, and she rolled her eyes and turned away.


	19. 16th and 18th November, 1972

16th November, 1972

The boys and I were enjoying a lovely breakfast, chatting about our latest plans for mapping the castle, when a shadow appeared behind me. A rather...large shadow.

I turned ‘round and found myself face-to-face with Professor Slughorn. “Miss Stratford,” he greeted me, voice booming, “Might I have a word with you?”

I raised my eyebrows and said, “Sure,” I gave a shrug towards my friends as the two of us headed out to the Entrance Hall.

Professor Slughorn cleared his throat once we were alone. “Miss Stratford, I have been positively intrigued with your performance on the Quidditch pitch during the match against Hufflepuff,” he said, “You are on the path to becoming an excellent player!”

I blushed slightly. “Um...well thank you, Professor,” what does he want? Was he trying to steal team strategies from me?

“You’re a Muggleborn, aren’t you?” Slughorn asked.

I nodded, “Yes, sir.” I wasn’t sure how else to answer.

“Remarkable,” he muttered. The way Slughorn had said it, it was like it was a bad thing to be Muggleborn. As though it was unbelievable I could be both Muggleborn and talented. It made me feel the teensiest bit angry and defensive, and I wished Professor Slughorn would just get on with whatever it was he was trying to ask.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve extracted you from the Great Hall just to talk to you about your skills,” Slughorn said, chuckling. He rocked on the balls of his feet as he continued to finger his pocketwatch thoughtfully. “You see, I have a little group...sort of an honours club. It’s an excellent opportunity for networking, meeting the next generation of...er, gifted witches and wizards, see…”

Oh Merlin, I thought, he must be inviting me to his stupid Slug Club. “Yes,” I said politely, “Lily and Remus are in it, aren’t they?”

“Indeed they are! I’d be honoured if you came by our next meeting. It could be a good opportunity for you to meet others at the school who are more…” he looked towards the Great Hall in the direction of where James and Sirius were roughhousing. “...your own speed.”

I looked up at Professor Slughorn. Has he just called Sirius and James stupid, in so many words? I raised my eyebrows.

Slughorn must’ve taken the expression to be his answer. “Excellent!” he bellowed.

I looked up in surprise.

“It’s this Saturday evening, in my office. I’ll send you an official invitation by owl,” Professor Slughorn said, slapping me heartily on the back. “I’ll see you later today in Potions, dear.” he waddled away, smiling and whistling to himself.

I groaned. What am I getting myself into?

18th November, 1972

Lily, Remus, and I walked mostly in silence towards the dungeons, none of us looking forward to the Slug Club. From what the two of them told me, it would be a giant snoozefest.

The door to the office swung open suddenly and Slughorn appeared, framed by the opening. From behind him came the sound of big band swing music from the 40s. “Welcome!” shouted Professor Slughorn, grinning widely as he held up his hands, one of which held a goblet with a heavy burgundy mead inside, which sloshed with his movements.

“Come in, come in.” he ushered us inside and I saw there were great green curtains hanging ‘round the walls to cover up the dungeonous feeling to the room. There were also squashy armchairs surrounding a huge fireplace that twinkled with flames. There were shelves along one wall covered with jars of interesting potion ingredients and colourful solutions. One table in the corner held a gigantic brass phonograph, from which came the music with a raspy sort of quality to its tone that only improved the old-time feeling.

There were only maybe a total of fifteen people in the entire room, and us second years were easily the youngest. I looked at Remus a little nervously, and he shrugged, trying to tell me that this wasn’t a big deal.

“Get yourselves drinks and come and join us by the fire,” Professor Slughorn instructed. He waved a palm at a long buffet-style table which had goblets of the same dark mead that he was drinking, cups of pumpkin juice, and little plates with lamb skewers laying with beds of rice. The three of us took a pumpkin juice and a plate and walked over to the hearth where the others were sitting. All the chairs were taken, so we sat down on the carpet.

Professor Slughorn went one by one, calling attention to the various people and the things which made them special enough to have been called into attendance. I got the feeling that Slughorn had collected only the most important people in the school: whether they were important for their own efforts, or because of who their family was.

“So Sabrina,” Slughorn began, finally getting around to me in his tedious appraisal of the group, “Do you think that with your skills you have potential for Gryffindor to finally win the Quidditch cup? They haven’t won it in about six years, you know,” 

I shrugged, “I doubt it would be just because of me alone. As good as I could be, it’s down to the whole team synced together and working as one unit that could lead to success.”

“Yes, yes, that is true,” Slughorn said, “Well, I won’t pretend that we don’t rather enjoy your team’s losses ourselves in Slytherin.” he grinned and winked. I forced a smile and took a mouthful of pumpkin juice as an excuse to look away.

Slughorn chuckled, “Don’t mind it at all, do we, Isaac?” he turned to a tall, slim boy who was chewing on a large mouthful of the lamb, the Slytherin star player: a beater named Isaac Horan.

The moment the party ended, the three of us headed back up to Gryffindor Tower, and Lily and I went to bed without another word. We mutually shared utter loathing for the Slug Club.


	20. 1st December, 1972

The weather was wet and cold as November passed and December arrived. Winds howled out the narrow windows of Gryffindor tower and the house elves were warming our beds before it was time to sleep at night. But even with their efforts, Remus was still a block of ice. James and Sirius told me that he would shiver half the night, curled in a ball and rubbing his arms, desperately trying to ignite some sort of warmth in his skin. I grew quite worried about him, and wondered how he would do in that drafty old shack during the full moon. 

“There’s got to be something we can do to make turning into a wolf easier on him,” I grumbled this morning, when the sleet and wind had died down a bit. James and I were bundled up and out on the grounds, practising flying in the cold. James’ father had sent him a little gadget attached to the handle of the broom which kept it from freezing up on him. Since James had told him that I was on the team, too, he was kind enough to send me one as well, so we were testing them out. “I feel awful for him, being all alone in that crumby old shack.”

“It’s not so bad out there,” James argued, though he only said it half-heartedly.

“It’s rubbish out there,” I said, shaking my head.

“Yeah, but, I mean, he’s a wolf,” James said, shrugging, “Wolves don’t give a damn what their rooms are like, they’re too busy biting up on themselves and all.”

I frowned, “All the more reason I wish we could help him out. I hate that he’s biting himself all over. Did you see the marks he got from last month? They’re awful. He’s going to be polka dotted from teeth bites before long.”

James sighed, “I don’t like it any more than you do, but what do you reckon we could do about it?”

“Dunno,” I said, frustrated. I let go of my broom to blow hot breath into my fingers. “Blimey, it’s cold out here. How’s that thing working? It works well enough for me.”

James grinned, “It’s working swell for me, too.”

“Good. We know they work, now let’s go inside before I lose a digit!” I said, and I directed my broom down to the ground. James beat me down there and had already dismounted before I even made it to the ground. I tucked the gadget into my pocket and shouldered my broom.

“You’re better at keeping up with moon cycles than I am,” James said, “When’s the next one?”

“The night before we leave for holiday,” I replied, frowning. “We won’t even get to wish him Happy Christmas unless it’s before he leaves for the Shack.”

James frowned, too, and followed me. We were walking up to the castle across the grounds, our feet crunching through the snow. “Maybe we could go down to the laundry and knick some extra blankets for him to bring along?” James suggested, “We could use that chute in the Trophy Room tunnel.”

I nodded, “Yeah. Do you reckon a werewolf would use some blankets?”

“Dunno,” James replied.

***

I was doing homework late this evening in the common room. It was around one the morning, and I was alone, until I heard the sound of muffled footsteps coming from the boys’ dorm staircase. At first glance, it seemed like no one was there, but I could see the ever-so-slight shimmer that made me realise it was the invisibility cloak.

“Evenin’,” I said with a smirk. The area where the cloak was came to a stop beside me, and I ducked under it to see that it was James and Sirius.

“I explained the situation to Sirius, and he wanted in,” James said.

“Sounds good. Let me put my things away and I’ll be ready to go.” I sprinted up the stairs to my dorm, threw my books messily on my bed, and headed back down. 

I grabbed hold and ducked under the cloak with James and Sirius and was just about to open up the portrait hole when I heard a creak on the stairs. My eyes widened as I looked at the two boys and we ducked out of the way of the hole, looking back at the stairs behind us. A shadow was creeping down slowly, though whoever it was clearly had not been close enough to see us before I went under the cloak. For a moment, I thought perhaps it was Peter, following along behind us, not wanting to be left out as usual.

But it wasn’t Peter.

It was Derek Bell.

Derek crept quietly down the stairs, tiptoeing, wincing when the staircase creaked or groaned beneath him. He was clearly quite skilled at descending those stairs noiselessly, though, as he slid his feet side to side and leaned in strange ways on the way down. I made a mental note of the way the elder boy moved to get down and planned to try it next time we needed to sneak out at night. When Derek had finally made it to the bottom, he quickly hastened to the portrait hole and pulled it open, glancing up at the girls’ dormitory stairs, making sure nobody had woken up, and he ducked out into the hallway.

The three of us scrambled to follow him.

Derek walked quietly down the corridor, pausing rather often to listen carefully to the castle. We had to freeze still when he paused, afraid that Derek might hear us. It felt like a twisted version of Red Light Green Light. One or twice the seventh year had glanced back over his shoulder and I held my breath in fear of being found out. We weren’t sure why we were so worried about Derek finding us… after all, it was just Derek, the bloke was our friend, he wouldn’t care if we were out of bed! He’d probably find us funny. Or, at least, he might normally, but there was something about the way he was moving, something about how secretive he was acting, that made me doubt Derek would be pleased to see us. Luckily, Sirius and James seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

We followed Derek through the castle, down the staircases to the third floor corridor. Then came a heart-stopping moment. Derek had paused, frozen, back pressed to the wall by a portrait of a fat wizard charming a prince into a toad, when echoing down the corridor came a little meow.

I winced. Derek was certainly about to be caught by Filch. He’d get detention for sure. All the protecting him that the whole of Gryffindor house had done since the incident with the Firewhiskey...it was sure to all be undone in one go, and all thanks to that filthy old cat!

But Derek had thought ahead.

He knelt down as Mrs. Norris neared, her tail swishing through the air in annoyance. She was about to turn and go to alert her master when Derek clucked his tongue quietly and reached into the pocket of his robes. Mrs. Norris sat at the corner of the corridor, where she had just come from, and peered, interested, through the dark at Derek’s outstretched palm. She licked her foot carefully, considering him, her little pink tongue wetting her paw before she swept it over her ears.

“C’mon, Mrs. Norris,” whispered Derek, “You’ve never once refused a snack of crab meat, have you?”

The cat could resist no more. She inched closer, her nose twitching in interest at Derek’s plan.

“C’mon you mangy old thing,” he said in a gentle voice, “C’mon. Be on my side now.” She blinked up at him with her big yellow eyes, and, finally, gave in and trotted over, licking the bits of fishy meat out of his palm, her little teeth bared as she ate quickly. “Good girl,” whispered Derek. “You’re easy to bribe, love.” He dropped the handful of crab meat onto the carpet and stood up, carefully stepping past her.

I grinned. This was very useful information indeed and I made note of it as the three of us rushed on past Mrs. Norris and followed after Derek to the mouth of the stairwell that went on down to the Great Hall. Derek lingered there, looking at the moon through the windows over the entrance doors and pacing to and fro in a nervous manner. James, Sirius, and I hung way back, crouching behind one of the suits of armour, watching.

“What do you reckon he’s waiting for?” whispered James, his voice barely a breath, too soft for Derek to hear, even in the silence of the castle.

Sirius shrugged.

I nervously whispered. “You don’t s’pose he’s….you know...imperiused, the way Professor Tutman was?”

Sirius shook his head, “I dunno, but I doubt it.”

The three of us continued to wait. Time seemed to drag on and we sat down behind the armour, waiting to see what it was that the Quidditch captain was waiting for. Sirius yawned as Derek sat on the top step of the stairs. James even went so far as to fall asleep, his cheek pressed against my shoulder beneath the invisibility cloak. Sirius and I stayed awake, though, staring at Derek and waiting…

And then there was a noise. Footsteps in the corridor. I felt my heart quicken. It could be anybody. Derek was clearly thinking along the same lines. He got up, moved closer to the bannister, crouched low to the stairs, his eyes watching the corridor. But the footsteps were too quick and even to be Filch’s. I elbowed James awake. “Look at this!” I said, staring in disbelief at the oncoming witch.

It was Professor Blythe.

James sat up straighter the moment he’d focused on her face long enough to recognise her, his eyes wide as he glanced at us. None of us could’ve been more shocked to see her.

Derek spotted her, too, and he stood up, his long legs unfolding from the crouch he’d been holding so long. “Cyrilla,” he greeted her.

“Shh,” she said quietly, looking around. “The walls have ears. Come along.” Quickly, she moved around him and down the stairs. Derek followed. The three of us scrambled to go after them, too, but at the foot of the stairs Professor Blythe’s path brought her and Derek to the front doors of the castle. James stopped, pointing to the stockinged feet that we had gone in to follow their quarry. We couldn’t follow them onto the grounds. Professor Blythe carefully brought the door to close behind them, her eyes searching the dark of the Entrance Hall before the seal was made.

“Damn,” Sirius cursed. He was clearly frustrated, fists hitting against the closed front doorway of the castle.

“Can you believe it?” I asked, and James shook his head. I stared at the large wooden doors. What in the world had they needed to go outside for? What had Professor Blythe meant when she said the walls have ears? I stared up at the door in frustration.

There was a sound at the top of the stairs...Mrs. Norris had finished her crab and caught up, finding her master and leading him downstairs. Sirius dove for the invisibility cloak and the three of us quickly ducked into a broom closet under the stairs to hide from Filch as he came down the stairs hastily and looked around. He made a funny little growling sound as he ducked into the little room off the Great Hall and disappeared.

“C’mon,” whispered James, “Let’s get back to the tower while we know where Filch and Mrs. Norris are at.” Sirius and I agreed, and we rushed back up the stairs and through the corridors to the very top of the castle at Gryffindor tower. Sirius muttered the passcode to the Fat Lady, who swung open to admit us, grumbling about needing her beauty sleep (“you can’t possibly think I just look like this without my rest, do you?” she trilled).

It wasn’t until we raced back into the common room and collapsed on the large couch that I remembered with why we’d left the tower in the first place. “We forgot the blankets,” I frowned.

“Remus has barely been sleeping lately, so let’s just have a snooze down here instead,” Sirius said. “I don’t want us coming in to wake him up.”

“Fine, then shove over, I want more space.” James said, giving Sirius a push, as he was the largest of us.

I snickered, this moment reminding me of when Sirius and I would fall asleep here after I comforted him about his nightmares. “Stay firmly in the centre, Sirius,” I chuckled, “I don’t fancy waking up to you drooling all over my hair like last time.”

“I don’t drool,” Sirius said, “I’m not a dog.”

I shifted, and mumbled, “You drool like one.”

“Oi, shut up, you two.” James said, staring up at the ceiling. 

Gradually, my breath was even, but not deep enough for sleep and Sirius knew I was still awake. “Do you reckon that Blythe is a dark witch?” I asked.

James blinked blearily into the dark, taking his glasses off and placing them on the coffee table. “No.” He paused. “I dunno,”

“It’s not as though they were discussing homework,” Sirius pointed out. 

“Maybe she’s part of the group that’s fighting Voldemort,” James suggested.

“Could be,” I mused. “But Derek’s underage, isn’t he? Would they allow somebody underage to be working in the Resistance like that?”

James shrugged, “Voldemort had Lucius Malfoy working for him and he was underage.”

“That was Voldemort, though,” Sirius pointed out. “Of course he’s going to do things all wrong. And it wasn’t very effective, was it? Malfoy wasn’t a very good assistant if a bunch of first years could do what we did.”

I hummed in agreement. I realised that this term, watching the new first years, just how insanely overconfident we’d been, trying to take on the Dark Lord as bumbling first years. They were teeny-tiny! It seemed unbelievable to me that I’d been that fragile and confused-looking only a year ago. Everything seemed different now.

Sirius shifted a bit before settling back down again. It was several moments before any of us spoke.

A chill ran through my spine. “We’ve got to get Remus more blankets,” I said.

But by the time I said it, James and Sirius were fast asleep.


	21. 19th December, 1972

It’s the day before the winter holidays, and I was in the boys’ dormitory, helping them pack for the journey back to London. I had already packed earlier, and James dragged me upstairs, saying he needed help deciding what things to bring home. Sirius seemed to also want as much company as possible, because he grew increasingly anxious about going home to Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

I’ve been so busy with Quidditch and classes and worrying about the safety of my parents that I had completely forgotten about the plan to knick Remus some blankets until the very moment when he announced, “Well...you lot have a Happy Christmas...I’ve got to go.”

“Happy Christmas,” said Peter hurriedly, too busy packing and mentally preparing for the feast that his mum would be preparing to say a proper goodbye to Remus.

Sirius dropped the books he’d been packing into his bag: he was the only one bringing along homework, as he said he figured there’d be nothing much else to be done while he was locked away in his room back home. His Transfiguration book fell off the bed and onto the floor with a thump. “You’re not going out there already!”

“I’ve got to,” Remus replied. He held up the note from Dumbledore reminding him of the moon. “I should’ve gone last night so that nobody saw me sneak out, but it was too cold to even dream of it. That old shack hasn’t got the best insulation.”

“Rats!” I exclaimed, remembering the blankets that Sirius, James and I were supposed to have gotten for Remus over the last month. I smacked my palm to my forehead, “Bloody hell, we’re the worst friends in the world!”

Remus looked confused, “What?”

James looked guilty, too. “We were going to knick you blankets from the laundry room,” he explained. “Clean ones, of course,” he added as an afterthought.

“For the Shrieking Shack,” added Sirius, “So you wouldn’t be so cold out there.”

Remus smiled, “I appreciate the thought,” he said.

“Thoughts won’t keep you warm at night!” I said in frustration.

Remus shrugged, “Some thoughts might.”

***

Later that night, Gryffindor Tower was quiet once again with sleep and the light of the full moon streamed through the window. I sat in my bed, hugging my knees and shivering, refusing to get under my own blankets in interest of feeling the same cold that Remus must be feeling out there in the Shack. I rubbed my palms over my toes. They were like icicles.

“Bloody hell,” I mumbled. I couldn’t stand the idea of Remus out there, half-frozen like I was picturing. Quickly, I got up, and snuck into the boys’ dorm. The moonlight streamed through the window, lighting up Remus’ empty bed ominously. 

“Sirius. Wake up.” But Sirius didn’t budge other than to roll over and pull his own blankets together. “Sirius, get up, we need to get blankets for Remus.” But still, nothing.

I went to James’ bedside this time, and tried the same thing. James wouldn’t wake up except to mutter something about a Quidditch pitch. I sighed. Fine. I’ll do it myself, then.

Alone, I snuck out of the dormitory and through the portrait hole to head to the Trophy Room, careful not to make a sound. I luckily didn’t run into a single soul on the way to the room. The light of my wand cast long shadows of the trophies in their cases across the walls, reaching up toward the ceiling. I stood before the frame of Scrimgeour’s empty portrait canvas and muttered Beati Pacifici, ducked into the passage quickly. I felt a lot better about not being caught once the portrait had resealed itself and I was running down the dark passage.

I hadn’t gone down to the laundry room before, and so I hesitated at the edge of the seemingly endless pit, standing next to the blue flame marker with a lump in my throat. Nervously, I inched closer and peered into the darkness that loomed beneath me. It seemed a lot more daunting now that I was here than it had when I’d thought of it before, when my plan involved friends. I thought of James’ heroics months before, when he’d launched himself down that very chute without hesitation to attempt to rescue Peter. I think it may have been the most brave and reckless thing I could imagine.

But this time it wasn’t for Peter. It was for Remus. And not only that, but I knew what awaited me at the bottom. I took a deep breath, then hopped over the edge, holding my nose as though I was jumping into a swimming pool.

Down, down, down I fell, the wind whipping my hair back from my face and my pyjamas fluttering about my ankles. I instinctively tried to grab onto something to stop the falling but there was nothing but smooth walls that came ever closer and I had a panicked thought about the magical properties of spaces in Hogwarts. What if the chute only sometimes went to the safety of the laundry room? What if sometimes it really did never end, and here I was dropping down to the centre of the earth, where I’d be boiled alive in magma and lava? But before I could panic too much, I felt the coolness of the wall on my back and the slow change from falling to sliding and then, like I was on some crazy ride at an amusement park, I was out the chute and into a great bin on stinking laundry.

I took a few moments to regain my wits about me, shivering in the warmth of the clothes and blankets I’d landed in. I crawled out of the bin once I was fairly certain that I could do it without my knees giving out on me. I looked about the room.

It was just as magical as James and Peter had described it, with clothes and blankets flying through the air to be magically dried and folded on their own accords into sacks that the house elves would carry up to the dormitories. It smelled sweet and citrusy in the room. I moved, ducking around the laundry flying through the air, and peered into the little bags, shuffling among them until I found one that was filled with blankets. I cinched the top of it and slung the bag over my shoulder quickly and made for the door at the far end of the laundry.

The hall beyond was dark and I wasn’t certain where in the castle I was, but I found my way eventually to the Entrance Hall and I struggled to pull open the great wooden doors. Outside, it was below freezing. I had worn my thickest cloaks but I was still very cold as I ran across the grounds, my feet crunching in the frozen snow. The Whomping Willow was still, her vines and leaves icy. I used the cold snow to form an ice ball and took aim for the knot as Remus had shown us nearly two months prior. I missed.

Several ice balls later and my hands were pink from the cold, my feet starting to get numb, and tears threatened to freeze in the ducts of my eyes. I had to hit this bloody tree. You’d think with me being a Chaser, that I can do this. I can throw a giant Quaffle halfway across the pitch, but I can’t toss this ice ball 15 feet away? I scraped up my seventeenth ice ball and took a deep breath, staring at the knot with determination. I still missed. There had to be another way!

I felt my wand and an idea struck me. I made one last ice ball. “Wingardium leviosa,” I whispered, and I magicked the ball across the space between me and the trunk of the Whomping Willow, lining the ball up so that it hovered over the knot in the tree before cutting the spell and allowing the ball to fall. It hit the knot and the willow sighed, frozen now in a different way.

I gathered up my bag of blankets and ran across the snow to the hole in the ground and jumped through into the darkness of the tunnel.

The tunnel seemed even longer and much more dreary by myself than it had been when I was with my friends. I hated the thought of Remus travelling it alone every month, and I clutched the bag of blankets even tighter in my fists, all the more determined to get them into the shack. I pictured Remus, huddled up and alone on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, probably reading one of his textbooks, and waiting for the full moon to come tomorrow night. I didn’t once think that Remus had told us he was supposed to leave last night, as the full moon would be tonight.

Not once.

When I got to the end of the tunnel at long last, I put the bag down for a moment to push open the trap door that led up into the Shack, then I stuffed the bag through and reached to climb up myself. “Remus?” I called into the dark, looking about as I pulled myself out of the tunnel and stood up. I picked up the bag of blankets. 

The Shrieking Shack was ice cold, my breath came out in the clouds ‘round my mouth, and I shivered. “Remus, it’s me, Sabrina. Blimey it’s cold out here...I brought you some blankets.” I looked around, but I didn’t see him anywhere.

It felt a bit like trespassing, honestly. I moved uncomfortably through the little kitchen, putting the bag of blankets down by the overturned table. On the floor, I spotted Remus’ book bag, books spilled onto the floor, illuminated by a beam of moonlight that cut across the dark, pale blue like cool silver. “Remus? Hello?”

A creaking floorboard was all the warning I got.

I turned around to see the most terrifying creature I had ever laid eyes upon. It was mangy, with great bloody gashes across his body, skin chewn to the point of being almost leatherlike, with thinning grey fur that was blotchy at best, and glowing yellow eyes...the werewolf was nothing at all like Remus Lupin. I was jolted by the shock of it. The beast lunged toward me, jaw open wide. 

I only just managed to get out of the way in time as the wolf came at me with teeth bared and anger in his eyes. I hit the floor and rolled, popping up a few feet away as the werewolf slammed into the table, kicking the textbooks every which way. Pages were shredded, a cover fell off, and one book slid clear across the room as the wolf struggled to his feet and turned on me, his eyes angry and wholly focused on me. I could almost feel the pressure of the eyes looking at the spot where my jugular was in my neck and I instinctively put my hands up as I cowered away.

“Remus, it’s me,” I said desperately, my back against the wall. Wallpaper was ripped and hanging limply against the wall where it had been scratched away. My eyes moved to the trap door, upon which the werewolf (it was impossibly hard to think of it as Remus) stood, baring his teeth and growled lowly, the hairs the ran along the ridge of his spine all straight up and prickly. “Oh God,” I whimpered. I don’t think I have ever been so terrified of anything in my entire life. “Remus, please, it’s me...Sabrina. Your friend. From Gryffindor. You know, we’re friends, you and me. You’re such a great guy, I care about you so much...” The wolf stepped closer and I swallowed, crouching in fear. “You’re Remus Lupin…” I trembled. “You know who I am. Please. Remember who you are, Re!” But there wasn’t even a flicker of recognition in the wolf’s eyes.

I knew I had exactly three options:

Stay here and let the wolf bite me.

Problem: I’d maybe become a werewolf. Or I’d DEFINITELY be killed. 

Grab hold onto something, like a chair or book, and try hitting the wolf.

Problem: It could make the wolf angrier and more aggressive, and kill me regardless.

Draw the wolf away from the trap door a bit, enough to get it off the door, and make a mad dash for it.

Problem: It could leap through the trap door and not only kill me, but possibly be loose in Hogwarts.

Seems like option #3 was the way to go. I stood slowly, inching my way up the wall, the wolf watching, calculating its attack. At any moment, he would lunge forward and I would be done for. I held up my palm, shaking. “Good...good doggy,” I whispered. “Good doggy.” My voice was but a squeak. 

I backed slowly away, keeping my back to the wall, my knees too weak to hold me up. Just a couple of feet, I thought. Not too far. I can do this. But would I be able to make the move to get to the door without the wolf grabbing onto me? That part I wasn’t so confident about. 

The werewolf took the bait, though, stepping closer with each motion that I took away from it, keeping the distance equal. Slobber was coming from the lips of the wolf, falling in great thick stands. It made my stomach churn.

Suddenly, sick of the slow steps, the wolf made his move. He leaped through the air, his strong back legs springing him forward. Luckily, I had seen the tensing of the muscles and I dove to the floor, sliding painfully across the wood and rolling to the trap door. The wolf rebounded off the wall and ran toward me, snapping and snarling as he came, his long yellow teeth bared. I pulled open the trap door as quickly as possible, and swung myself down into the tunnel. I was afraid that the wolf would follow. I reached for the cord to pull the door shut behind me. The wolf stretched out his long clawed-foot, catching my right arm with his claws and ripping the skin, tearing it away, drawing blood. I screamed in pain, but managed to hold onto the cord as I pulled it the rest of the way shut. The wolf’s paw caught in the door and struggled to push his way through, but I pulled the cord with my entire body weight and the wolf was forced to withdraw as the trap door slammed shut, sealing the angry wolf onto the other side.

I clutched my bleeding arm as I fell to the floor, tears in my eyes, breathless. I could hear the wolf snarling and snapping and scraping at the door, digging, and I imagined that the wood might break and the wolf might break through and get into the tunnel. I scrambled to my feet, heart in my throat, and ran as fast as I bloody well could through the tunnel, blood leaking out of my right arm and dripping onto the floor. 

I felt dizzy as I stumbled to the other end. I’d run that full length and my lungs burned and I struggled to pull myself out of the dark after pulling the lever on the hole. I rolled across the ice and snow that covered the ground beneath the Willow. Blood stained the snow reddish-pink and I was sobbing as the cold crystals bit into the skin around the wound. I looked at it, trembling. Four bright red gashes circled from the middle of my forearm to the base of the back of my hand, deep and oozing.

I knew I had to go to Pomfrey. There was no way around it. If I didn’t, I would certainly lose all of the blood within my body. I already felt as though I had lost a good amount of it. What will I tell Pomfrey, though? I wondered desperately. What if she took one look at it and knew it was a werewolf that had caused the wound? What would happen to Remus? Did werewolf scratches work the same way as a werewolf bite? I stumbled across the snow, headed for the main doors of the castle, so cold I could barely move, clutching my arm as the night and the castle swam before my eyes, blurry and far off.

I fell down the stairs...once, twice...a third time...my knees scraped against the stone, pain jolting up my arm as it broke my fall. I was so tired.

“Bloody hell,” I heard a voice say from what seemed like eons away. “What’s happened to you?”

I fought to focus on the face that peered down at me. Why was Derek outside, yet again, at this late of an hour? But I didn’t have too long to wonder as I lost my strength entirely and everything went dark.

Note: I hate the trope when OCs fall unconscious randomly. I hate it sooo much. But I feel like getting attacked by a werewolf and nearly bleeding and freezing to death are pretty good conditions towards getting knocked out.


	22. 20th December, 1972

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SpeedyTyphoon says, "thanks for the update! although idk what she thought would happen. why’d she enter where she knew a werewolf was?"
> 
> I can explain a bit of her thinking. So, for a full moon, Remus typically goes into the shack the night before he transforms. So he spends a night as a human in the shack, then a night or two as a wolf, then heads back to Hogwarts. The gang knows this, and Sabrina forgot that he spend his night as a human at Hogwarts, because he knew that he would miss saying goodbye to his friends before the holiday.
> 
> But yeah, it was kinda boneheaded, and she obviously has learned her lesson haha.

I woke up groggily this morning, and it felt like I chugged an entire jug of Firewhiskey the night before. The entire lower half of my right arm was covered with a great many bandages, and I could barely even lift it. It felt like it was made out of rocks.

Madam Pomfrey quickly came over, and began fussing over me. “You’re lucky that Mr. Bell brought you in when he did, otherwise we might’ve had to ship you to St. Mungo’s! You lost a lot of blood!”

I sat up slowly, and Madam Pomfrey gave me a bowl of some kind of weak broth. “Eat. You’ll feel better. You need all the strength you can get for the trip back to London.”

It was more than a few minutes that a hovering spoon began tipping the broth into my mouth that the Hospital Wing doors burst open and Sirius and James ran in.

“Hi guys,” I said with a smile, happy to see them.

Madam Pomfrey looked up from where she was bustling about at a wide cabinet filled with wildy-shaped bottles, and expression of disapproval on her face.

“No visitors!” she said.

But the two boys were already down the length of the ward to my bed, their eyes wide. “Sabrina! Bloody hell, what’ve you done?” James cried out.

Sirius, however, lowered his voice to a breath, “Did you take the wrong pit?”

I shook my head and my eyes moved to Pomfrey, who had rushed over, “She needs her rest!” she said sharply, glaring at my friends, “You two aren’t going to help her get any better quicker by being here, run along and finish getting ready for the holiday.”

“I’ll see you lads on the train,” I said.

James nodded, “Same compartment as always.” Then Madam Pomfrey chased them out of the Hospital Wing.

***

“Here yeh are,” Hagrid said, pushing open the compartment door for me. He could barely fit shoulders across on the Hogwarts Express and a long line of students were bottlenecked behind him, unable to get by the half-giant’s width. He certainly wasn’t about to squeeze into the compartment himself. He was barely able to get one of his dust-bin lid-sized hands through to put down my bag. “Ev’rythin’ looks a’right then for yeh?” he asked.

I squeezed into the compartment. “Yes, thank you Hagrid,” I said. “I appreciate it. You really didn’t have to come onto the train,” I added.

“Dumbledore tol’ me ter see yeh off, and help yeh with yer luggage an’ all. I had ter be sure you was off proper-like so as ter tell the headmaster I done my duty,” Hagrid said. He reached into his pocket and took out a little bag, “Here yeh are, some rock cakes for the ride. Hold yeh over ‘til the sweets trolley, at least. Made ‘em myself,” he added, grinning, as I unrolled the top of the little sack and took a sniff of the cakes. They smelled quite delicious, of molasses and dates.

“Thanks, Hagrid!” I said.

“Happy Christmas, Sabrina,” said Hagrid, and he waved and shuffled off down the train, a flood of students pouring into the compartments behind him.

I waved, and pulled my compartment door shut with my good hand, trying to block out some of the glares I was getting. I sat down on one of the benches, pulling one of the rock cakes out of the bag. Despite having smelled quite delicious, they were harder than real rocks, I realised. I tapped it against the wooden wall and half expected it to leave a dent. “Wow,” I muttered, “Those would shatter my teeth, they would!”

I dropped the hard little cake back into the sack and rolled the top up tight. It was nice of Hagrid to bring them, anyway, even if I didn’t get to eat them.

James, Peter and Sirius arrived some time later, when the train was nearly full. I had to turn away several hopeful first years to keep the compartment to ourselves. I felt awful telling Frank Longbottom that all the seats were taken...especially when Frank sighed and said he’d have to sit in a compartment with a bunch of first year girls all the way back to London. But I really needed to be able to talk to Peter and James and Sirius about what had happened to my arm. And it was a good thing, too, because James burst into the compartment already firing questions, Sirius hot on his heels. 

“Alright,” James said before he’d even put down his bag, “What happened to your arm?”

“The truth, or the myth?” I asked, grinning.

“The myth?” Peter asked, confused.

“Well the myth is that I was practising Transfiguration in the corridor because you lot were snoring so loud I could hear you all the way from the common room. I turned a teacup into a rat and it ran off, so I had to fight Mrs. Norris for it. I’ve got detention for being out of the common room after dark,” I said, then added proudly, “And Filch got reprimanded, told to control his cat and teach it better manners. It was brilliant.”

James smirked, “Poor Mrs. Norris.”

“Serves her right for being bloody awful,” Sirius said with a grin. “So what really happened that you had to make up a story about it?”

“Did you go down the wrong pit in the Trophy Room?” James sat forward, eager to hear the tale.

Peter looked surprised, “What were you doing going down the pits in the Trophy Room?” he asked, eyes wide, “There could be anything down there!”

I shook my head, “I went down the right one. Ended up in the laundry room, just like we’d planned, and I got the blankets--”

“You planned this?” Peter stammered, “Where was I?”

“Sleeping. Shh, she’s telling a story, don’t interrupt,” James replied, waving Peter off, “Go on then, Sabrina.”

I told them about my journey with the blankets across the grounds and through the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. I told them about my confrontation with the werewolf - making Peter squeak in terror - and how I’d only narrowly escaped and ran all the way back to Hogwarts, only to be found by Derek Bell on the front steps to the castle.

“Why didn’t Derek tell them he found you outside?” James asked, confused.

“I reckon he didn’t want to have to answer questions about why he was outside,” I replied with a shrug, “Dunno. I haven’t had a chance to talk with him. I was thinking of going to find him on the way to London”

Sirius shook his head, “He’s staying at Hogwarts for the holiday.” He lowered his voice, “He hasn’t got a family to go home to now, remember? I can’t imagine how awful the holiday will be for him.”

“Nor can I,” I said solemnly.

“Does this mean you’re a werewolf now, too?” Peter asked tremulously, eyeing my bandages suspiciously, as though the arm was going to grow hair and claws and attack him on the spot.

I answered, “I dunno. I couldn’t very well ask Madam Pomfrey about it, could I? I don’t think so though. I looked in our Defense Against the Dark Arts book and it only mentions werewolf bites as being a way to turn wolf in there.” The question had been nagging me, too, and I’d worried about it a good portion of the night in the Hospital Wing, laying awake, staring at the full moon outside the window. I’d have transformed then if I was going to, since the moonlight had been falling right on my bed the whole night. At least, that’s what I told myself.

“Is it terribly nasty?” James asked, nodding at my bandaged arm, “The injury, I mean?”

“You wanna see it?” I asked, grinning.

James and Sirius nodded their heads and Peter shook his.

I unravelled the bandages to reveal my arm mostly healed. The skin was hot pink and seared together along the lines where the werewolf’s scratches had dug in. Pomfrey had done her best, but since they were created by magical claws, the cuts were much harder to mend than regular ones. “I didn’t think that old cat had enough magic left in her to cause this much trouble,” Pomfrey had complained while she had smeared some sort of potion of the skin that mended it as best she could. But I didn’t mind the scars.

“That doesn’t look so bad,” Sirius said, though Peter looked a bit queasy. “It looks rather cool...like a Muggle tattoo, sort of.”

“You should’ve seen it when it was gushing blood and oozing pus,” I replied, “It looked right terrible then. There was so much blood, Pomfrey had to throw out the robes I was wearing.”

James and Sirius looked impressed.

“I just don’t know what I’m going to tell Remus about it,” I said, wrapping the wound back up in the bandages carefully. James reached over to assist me. “I don’t want him knowing he’s done it, he’d be really upset.”

Peter’s eyes were wide, “But he’s attacked you!”

“Doesn’t mean he needs to be feeling guilty,” Sirius said sternly, “It isn’t his fault. He was in werewolf form, totally not himself.”

Peter was quite incredulous. “You’re mad as a bag of ferrets!” he said, “You told me last year that Remus was perfectly safe...would never attack us, you said - but here we are, not even a year later and he’s attacked you!”

“I told you, Peter,” I said, rolling my eyes, “I’m the barmy idiot that went into a werewolf’s territory on the full moon!”

“That doesn’t mean a thing!” Peter said, “He still attacked you. You could be...be one of them and you don’t even know it yet.”

I groaned and rubbed my forehead angrily, “How many times do I have to say this? It’s not his fault, Peter. He was in the Shack and I went out there when I should’ve known better. Besides...what would you have me do? Tell McGonagall?”

“YES!” Peter shouted, “Tell McGonagall!”

“And then Remus would be kicked out of school!” said James, “That’s not very fair.”

“Fair?” Peter looked at James with raised eyebrows, “You’re worried about what’s fair for Remus? What about the fact that you’re being forced to share a room with a werewolf? Is that fair? I don’t think it is!”

Sirius glowered at Peter, “You’re such a ruddy coward.”

“I’m not a coward,” Peter said, “I have an ounce of smarts is all! I think you’ve all got a death wish of some sort...not being afraid of a werewolf!”

I replied, boldly honest, “I am afraid of a werewolf. But I’m not afraid of Remus Lupin and there’s a very big difference between the Remus we know and the werewolf I encountered in the Shack. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’s not the same thing, and I’m not about to get Remus our friend in trouble for something that the ruddy werewolf’s done. Alright? Now drop it. Nobody is telling McGonagall. That would be a betrayal of friendship, Peter! Nobody betrays my friends...none of them...if you do and I ever find out you’ve betrayed one of us, I’ll bloody kill you.” Peter stared at me, and so did James and Sirius. The seriousness in my voice was absolute. I meant the words as sure as I’d ever meant anything I’d ever said in my entire life. There was not a single ounce of apology. “I swear it,” I added after a pause. “I bloody swear it on my soul.”

Peter got up and hurried out of the compartment, slamming the door behind him.

“Well,” James said, nervously laughing under his breath, “Guess you told him.”

“He needed to know that,” I said, “It’s serious stuff we’re dealing with. Remus gets found out and his entire life could be wrecked just like that.”

Sirius nodded, “We can’t go exposing him. Peter’s a git.”

I stared down at the bandages.

“Just tell him something happened on holiday,” Sirius said.

I looked up at him.

“Remus. When he asks what happened to your arm. Tell him something happened on holiday. He’ll never know the difference.”

A smile broke across my face, “Good idea.”

“I have them now and again,” Sirius replied, laying back against the cushioned bench.

I smirked, “Don’t push it, Black.”

***

The train moved ever southward until it finally arrived at King’s Cross Station at Platform 9 ¾ and students shuffled off with our bags to our waiting families. Peter struggled with his trunk down the steps onto the platform until he looked up to see Sirius holding onto it, James and I by his side. I stared into Peter’s eyes very solemnly as we moved across the platform where Mrs. Pettigrew was waiting for her son with a gleeful expression on her face.

“Oh Peter!” she said with joy, “Are these your little friends I’ve heard so much about?” she asked excitedly.

James grinned, “Hullo Mrs. Pettigrew,” he said, greeting Peter’s mum with a full blast of the most charming personality that he possessed. “Yes, we’re Peter’s friends: I’m James, and this is Sirius and Sabrina,” he said pointing to the two of us.

Mrs. Pettigrew smiled widely, fussing over the four of us and saying she wanted to take a photograph of her little Peter with his friends with school. The four of us clustered together, Peter standing in front as he was the shortest and widest. I leaned to the side to be closer to Peter and just as Mrs. Pettigrew was about to snap the photograph I whispered, “I wasn’t kidding before, Pettigrew,” I smiled at the camera.


	23. 23rd and 24th December, 1972

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SheRipper says, "damn girl! get it! awesome scars james is hella jealous of, and threatening nobody's favorite rat!! atta girl! thank you for the chapter!! it's sooooo good!!!"
> 
> Haha, this made me laugh quite a lot, your comments are hilarious :)  
> I'm really glad you liked the chapter!! And I loooved writing her threatening Peter, you KNOW he was crapping his pants after that :)

23rd December, 1972

The moon was bright in the sky and there was snow flurrying through the air, like falling stars in the lamp posts that lined the street I lived on. It all looked rather like a snowglobe. I was laying on my stomach on the floor in the living room in some butterfly pyjamas - which I’ve owned since before I left for Hogwarts last year, so they showed my ankles by several inches, but they were my absolute favourites. I was watching the telly, my chin propped up on a squashed-up throw pillow.

“Sabrina, it’s time for bed,” Mum said, coming in and shutting the TV set off. She collected the cups and platters from the table. “Up, up, up,” she said.

“Aw, mum, c’mon it’s holiday,” I moaned, “What do I have to go to bed so early for? I’m not even…” I yawned, “...tired.”

“Hmm, you sound awfully tired to me,” she said, smirking as I stretched.

“Oh no, not at all,” I said, “We stay up loads later at school, every night!”

My mum raised an eyebrow.

“Besides, The Doctor was just about to destroy the Sea Devils,” I complained, tossing the pillow back onto the couch. “Can’t I at least see how it ends?”

Mum shook her head, “You’ve seen how it ends, Miss Stratford. You’ve seen all of them. Multiple times. Now off to bed with you. I’ll be up in a minute to check on you.” She started toward the kitchen and was nearly there when the doorbell rang.

She and I both turned to look down the narrow hallway to the front door in curiosity. My father, who had been upstairs, was just coming down and he glanced back at the two of us. “I’ll get it,” he said. Grabbing a cricket bat, he moved up to the door and peered out into the dark through the peephole. With all of the attacks and horribleness going on out there, one could never be too careful. But I highly doubted whether Voldemort would show up on somebody’s doorstep and ring the bell to just Avada Kedavra them all.

Somehow the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters didn’t seem like the doorbell-ringing types.

“Who is it, dear?” Mum asked when my father pulled away from the door with a look of confused curiosity on his face. 

Instead of answering, he opened the door. To my surprise, it was Sirius, standing on the stoop, snow speckling his hair, his face and fingers deep pink from the cold. Sirius had a bag slung over his shoulder and he was soaked from the knees down where the snow had seeped through his clothes and into his trainers.

“Sirius!” I exclaimed, running forward and grabbing hold on to my shivering friend and yanking him inside. Dad closed the door behind us. “Sirius, mate, what’re you doing out there in the cold?”

Sirius’ teeth were chattering, and he gasped out, “I...I couldn’t...I couldn’t stay th...there another m...m...minute.”

“Poor dear, he’s frozen half to death. Sabrina, bring your friend in the living room by the fire. I’ll get you a cup of tea. Would you like milk and honey?” Mum asked, springing into action.

Sirius was shivering too hard to answer, but I said, “Just honey in his, Mum,” and directed Sirius into the parlour. I set him in a chair by the fireplace - the one my mum usually sat in when she read her romance novels - and Dad leaped forward to wrap a warm blanket ‘round Sirius’ shoulders. Sirius’ fingers barely could move to hold the blanket tightly closed.

Mum came in the blink of an eye with a steaming cup of hot tea with honey. “I added just a touch of whiskey,” she said, “To warm you up. Not a lot, but you’ll notice the taste of it.”

“Th-thank you,” Sirius shivered. He struggled to hold the teacup, the saucer clattering beneath it as he lifted it to his lips. The drink must’ve been scalding hot, but he sipped it deeply anyway.

My dad was sitting in his own chair across the room, and my mum was perched on the arm while I stayed kneeling at Sirius’ foot, staring up at my friend with wide eyes. When Sirius had been given a chance to thaw out, Dad asked, “What were you doing out this late at night, son?” He looked at Sirius with a stern expression, “There’s all these dangers out there normally, but now with that dark wizard and his men running amok all about the city.”

Sirius replied, “It’s not any more dangerous out there than it was in my own house.”

Mum glanced at Dad, their eyes met, and she asked, “What happened, dear?”

“Mother and Father...they’re dark wizards,” Sirius said. He looked at me, “They killed the Bells.”

My jaw dropped and I exclaimed, “No way!”

Mum touched Dad’s arm. “I read about them, in your letters Sabrina, and the Daily Prophet. Mr. Potter hooked us up with a subscription. So it was your parents?” She asked, tremulously.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“It’s according to my little brother, Regulus,” Sirius replied, “He says he heard things, living at home, that Mother and Father trust him. Then he said that the Bells were “bad wizards” and that Lord Voldemort never makes a command without there being a good reason...and when I accused Mother, she didn’t deny it. She didn’t even flinch an eye.”

Dad looked to the window, as though half expecting to see Walburga and Orion Black staring in with their wide, cruel grins. He went over to close the curtains tighter.

“I just couldn’t stay there,” Sirius said thickly, “Knowing what they’d done, what they are. I just couldn’t. I didn’t have any place else to go. I wandered about for a bit before I remembered what you said to me last year, about how I could come. And I came here as quick as I could.”

“You’ll stay, of course,” Mum said quickly.

“For the night,” Dad added.

Mum looked up at him.

“Thank you,” Sirius said graciously.

I stood up, “You can sleep in my room!”

Sirius put his nearly empty teacup on the little saucer. “Alright.”

I said, “It’ll be brilliant, like at Hogwarts, except I don’t have to sneak up all those stairs to see you! My room is really cool, I can show you all my Muggle things! Ooo, maybe tomorrow we can go out to this abandoned field not too far away and play some Quidditch tomorrow, like a one-on-one, we’ll have loads of fun and if you stay through Christmas, oh Sirius, Mum makes the best butterscotch biscuits…” I eagerly dragged my friend out of the room and up the stairs, and I was prattling on and on once we got to my bedroom. I shut the door, and Sirius put his hand over my mouth to shut me up.

I gave Sirius some pyjamas my gran got me for Christmas last year that were about three sizes too big, and he ducked into the washroom down the stairs to change.

As I waited for him to return, I heard voices downstairs, so I crept to the end of the hall and decided to overhear what my parents were saying.

“For the night only?” Mum asked quietly.

“They could be looking for him. What’s to stop them doing to us what they’ve done to that magical family?” Dad asked, talking about the Bells.

“What’s to stop them anyway? Whether we have the boy here or not?”

“Why give them another reason to target us?” Dad asked, “We already draw enough attention just by having a magical daughter. All the work Mr. Potter did in protecting this house - all those protective charms he casted...it could’ve been us they went for when they killed the Bells.”

“Where else is he supposed to go?” Mum asked. “You heard the boy. What do you want to do? Send him out into the street? Or back to that place with those awful people? You heard what Sabrina told us this summer, that they use spells to inflict pain upon him.”

A voice squeaked, and I realised that they happened to be arguing right by where Sirius was changing. He must’ve overheard and come out. “Please don’t send me back.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Please. They hate me, they’ll kill me if I go back. Mother uses an illegal curse on me, nearly every day.”

“Of course we aren’t going to send you back there,” Mum said. “We’d be as bad as them if we did.” There was another pause, mum likely looking to dad for his consent. “You’ll stay here as long as you need.”

“We’ll fix up the guest room in the morning,” Dad said.

“Thanks,” Sirius said. “Just...thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” Mum said.

Sirius ran up the stairs, which I took as my cue to return to my room.

24th December, 1972

Christmas is a very serious affair in my family. The decorating of the Christmas tree is a full family event, complete with holiday tunes playing over the radio at top volume and mugs full of steaming hot cider that Mum had kept bubbling on the stove all day, filling our little flat with the smell of cinnamon. Sirius was dazzled by the star-shaped lights that wrapped around the tree - long strands of twinkling lights that flickered just like real stars. We ate caramel-covered popcorn and peppermint lollies and fresh orange slices. 

This evening, Sirius and I sat up in my bedroom on the bed, facing each other, sharing a chocolate bar that I had hidden in my desk drawer. I ripped the wrapper open and split the bar in half, giving one to Sirius. We made plans for exploring the other passages on the list we’d found in the Trophy Room passage and chatted about Remus and the pink scars across my arm.

“What do we do if Peter decides to tell after all?” Sirius asked as he chewed the last of his chocolate.

I sighed, “Dunno...I wouldn’t really kill him. I don’t think. I dunno.”

Sirius shook his head, sweeping a bit of fallen truffle cream from his chin. “Nah, you wouldn’t. You’re too good.”

“Depends on what he’d done, I s’pose,” I said with a shrug. “Sometimes the good have to do bad things to be good, don’t they?”

“Dunno,” Sirius replied, “Is it ever good to kill?”

“What about Voldemort?” I asked, “Wouldn’t killing him be good?”

Sirius shrugged. “Dunno. It’s hard to say. Part of me says it would be. But another part saying killing is killing, the same whoever it is that’s done the killing and who’s been killed. Isn’t it? A life still ends.”

“But if it’s a bad life ending…”

“Who’s the one who can judge good and bad?” Sirius asked.

I thought for a moment. “Morals. Laws.”

Sirius shrugged, “They’re made by feeble witches and wizards the same as you and me, aren’t they? Sometimes the law is wrong. Sometimes things that are illegal are morally right.”

I took a deep breath and folded the wrapper about the rest of my chocolate, too full to finish it. “What a conversation for Christmas Eve!” I exclaimed.

Sirius laughed, “Yeah. I s’pose we ought to be talking about something more cheerful.”

“I reckon so,” I agreed with a chuckle.

I leaned back so I was against the headboard of the bed, my feet crossed at the ankle. My too-short pyjamas were covered with butterflies, my socks mismatched: one covered with black and white stripes, the other with gold and red polka dots. I folded my arms up behind my head and said, “Ah, Sirius, you’re going to love it...tomorrow, I mean. Christmas here is a great holiday. Mum makes the most wonderful food. And there’s always fantastic presents.”

Sirius smiled, as if he was fondly remembering a time when his parents might have loved him.

“Speaking of presents,” I suddenly flipped over onto my stomach on the mattress so that I hung over the side, doubled over, and reached under the bed. I came back up a moment later, my hair a wild tangle (my hair had reached down the middle of my back, with wild, dirty blonde waves every which way). “I didn’t get a chance to wrap it, but I reckon you’ll..er...dig it,” I said, handing Sirius a record.

It was a Beatles album. “I know you like John Lennon a lot, so...this is his band,” I explained, pointing to the picture of him on the sleeve.

Sirius grinned as he flipped the record over and looked down the list of songs. He hugged the record to his chest, “Thank you Sabrina,” he said, blushing. After a moment, he looked down a bit. “I haven’t got anything to give you,” he said.

“It’s alright!” I said, “I’m just glad you’re here. That’s enough of a gift for me. I’ve been hoping you’d come sometime, ever since I’d offered last year! And you sounded miserable in your owls,” I added.

“I was.”

“Well you not being miserable is enough for me,” I said, smiling. I returned to my relaxed position, sprawled across the bed once more.

Sirius grabbed the pillow he’d been using and leaned against the foot end of the bed, his feet up by my elbow, the record laying across his chest. “I like it here, Sabrina.”

“Good, then stay.” I replied. I took a deep breath and snuggled lower down so that I was on my back. The silhouette of Archie streaked across the ceiling, as he fluttered his feathers, guarding the window. I closed my eyes.

“Sabrina?” Sirius asked.

“Hmm?”

“You reckon bad wizards were good once?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” I questioned, not opening my eyes.

“Well, I mean...Voldemort, he was a kid once, right? He probably went to Hogwarts once. Probably had good mates, probably got bored in History of Magic, same as us...do you reckon he was ever good? Do you reckon that bad wizards start out good and...you know...get lost some place along the way?”

I said, “I doubt Voldemort was ever good.”

“But some wizards were probably good once, yeah?”

I opened one eye.

“Like my Mother and Father,” Sirius said. “I didn’t think they were bad wizards when I was little. Do you reckon they were good then and...and something changed?”

“Perhaps it’s you that’s changed,” I said.

Sirius nodded. “Perhaps.” He looked a bit sad at the thought.

I nudged his shoulder with my stockinged foot. “You alright?”

“It’s hard,” Sirius said, “Not having a family.”

I don’t know what came over me, but I leaned over and planted a small kiss on Sirius’ forehead. “I’ll be here for you. Always.”


	24. 25th December and 2nd January, 1972 and 1973

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SheRipper says, "ohhh poor sirius! but I'm glad he's out of the Blacks' grasp sooner than in canon! Also regulus is all alone and only knows what their parents are teaching him about killing for voldemort and i feel so bad for him! i love sabrina being all "I can't really kill peter...probably." her room and her mismatched socks - everything about the scene was childlike and sweet and soft and the cluster of things it was really good! i could really imagine it, and i sympathized with her character a lot. and AWWWWWW that kiss on the forehead!! our girl is so smOOth!!! she got game! i bet she doesn't know how handsome Sirius grows up to be in canon - girl three years from now you'll walk around hogwarts just embarrassing your friend in front of his fan club going "But did you know his first kiss was with me? and well, i was definitely in the driver seat, you know? he was checking out my mismatched socks i reckon -" sirius in the background "Sabrina stopppppppp!"  
> lolz, anyways great chapter!"
> 
> This made me giggle, I love the little dialogue you added at the end. That actually kinda motivates me to incorporate that in the distant future, it's super cute! And, as always, I love your comments. They truly do make my day :)

25th December, 1972

It was Christmas! Sunlight came in through my window blindingly bright, the rays of it falling across my face as I woke. Sirius burst in and shook me awake.

“Happy Christmas, Sirius,” I mumbled from my pillow.

“Happy Christmas, Sabrina,” he replied.

I stretched, my long legs extending so that my feet went right over the edge. “Blimey,” I said, “We’ve had a bit of a lie-in, haven’t we?” I looked over at the clock on my nightstand. “I never lay in on Christmas!”

“We were up half the night talking,” Sirius said.

I rolled out of bed and opened the window. Archie came soaring in and settled on his perch happily. “Happy Christmas, Arch,” I said, closing the window back up. I picked up a little sack of owl treats from my bureau and spilled some onto my palm for Archie to snatch up. “Let’s go downstairs...presents,” I reminded Sirius and I waved for my friend to follow me.

Sirius leaned the record against his pillow carefully, and followed me down the steps, back to the decorated living room. There were loads of presents beneath the tree. My parents were sitting together on the couch - Dad holding a fancy new telescope and Mum a pretty new scarf in a lovely shade that would match her eyes. “Well there they are,” Dad said, smiling, “It’s about time!”

I grinned, heading to the presents beneath the Christmas tree as Sirius hung back, watching as I grabbed hold of a package. He looked about, trying to decide where to sit down.

“Get on in there, Sirius,” Dad said happily, waving, “I think that one by the fireplace is yours.”

“Mine?” Sirius said, surprised. “There’s...there’s one for me, too?”

“There’s a couple there,” Mum said.

“What’d you think, you’d have no presents?” I asked, looking up at Sirius incredulously. “Of course there’s presents for you!” I was holding a brand new Quidditch set in a lovely mahogany case. “Look at this!”

Sirius stumbled toward the place my father had indicated and sure enough, there were a couple there with his name scrawled upon them. He knelt down, unbelieving, and reached for the paper, tearing it away. The first one he opened was a case, too, square in shape with a little tab that twisted to open. Inside were even more records. His eyes widened at all the records, all shiny and new. His hands trembled as he sifted through them. The Beach Boys, Elvis Presley, Rod Stewart, Elton John, The Who…”Wow,” he whispered.

“Sabrina mentioned you enjoy music,” Dad said.

“I love it,” Sirius replied, looking up. “Wow.”

“I took out the best one before they wrapped it,” I said, grinning, “I wanted to give that one to you myself, since I know how much you like Lennon.”

The next one Sirius opened was a new pair of socks with the Gryffindor house crest sewn into the tops. A box of parchment and a new quill and a little bottle of invisible ink, which would only reveal itself to the intended reader. I was impressed at how comfortable my parents had gotten with going shopping in Diagon Alley for all these magical gifts. And then, there was the surprise of all surprises...Sirius pulled the paper away from a broom.

His eyes widened when he realised what it was and he turned to my parents, his jaw dropped.

“Sabrina mentioned you didn’t have one,” Dad said, excited for Sirius. Dad had become quite the Quidditch fan.

“Hey! Great!” I shouted, seeing the broom. I was holding a bunch of new clothes, and a new leather book bag that had been charmed to stay light as a feather no matter how many books it carried in its extended depths. “Now we can play Quidditch together, with my new set!” I grinned, “Maybe you’ll get on the team next term!”

Sirius stammered, so speechless that words would literally not form. “Thank you!” He said, his voice trembling with honest astonishment.

2nd January, 1973

Today was the day that James, Sirius, Peter and I returned to Hogwarts, along with the rest of the students that had gone home for the holidays. The holiday had been sufficient enough time for Peter to come to the decision that he would let the whole werewolf thing go...for now, at least...and he rejoined us in our usual compartment on the Hogwarts Express as though nothing had transpired amongst us. We shared licorice wands, paid for by James’ pocket money, and dared each other to eat the grey and brown Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, laughing and exchanging tales about our Christmases.

James was very impressed with Sirius’ new broomstick and asked to hold it, running his fingers over the lovely plate that declared its model number on the handle. Sirius was very proud and excited for a chance to go out to the pitch with James and I sometime after a Quidditch practice to have a go on the broom.

Sirius and I had played quite a lot of Quidditch over the holiday in this great empty field I found in a London suburb. He told me it had been riding lightning compared to the Hogwarts school brooms. “If you’d had that broom back at tryouts you would’ve been a shoo-in for the team,” I said with relish when we’d tested it out. “You’ll have to try out again after this term. There’s going to be three spots open once Derek, Bilius and Andy leave.”

This was a sentiment repeated by Peter and James on the train to Hogwarts. “Could you try out at least for the tourney against Ilvermorny?” Peter asked.

“I reckon you need to already be on a team to try out,” lamented Sirius, “That’s the point of the tourney, isn’t it? The best of all the houses have a go against the best of all their houses?”

“We could ask Derek, though, couldn’t we?” James suggested. “Maybe he’ll accept a last-minute tryout for the tourney. I mean, we are his mates and all. Sort of. Maybe he’ll make an exception for you.”

“Maybe,” said Sirius doubtfully. But James wasn’t willing to give up so easily and persisted that he would ask Derek first thing when we reached the school.

***

We arrived at Hogsmeade and were carried up to the school by the great horseless carriages and dropped off at the stairs that led into the doors. There was a considerable amount of bustling and chatter as all the students pushed their way into the castle. The boys and I made our way up to Gryffindor Tower, still talking excitedly about the holiday as we went. Bilius Weasley was waiting outside the portrait hole, wearing a great big top hat that he’d gotten over the holiday, and greeting students with the new password into the common room.

“It’s Minerva,” said Bilius, as the four of us approached him, “McGonagall’s first name.”

“Got it, thanks Bilius,” I said and we climbed in through the portrait hole.

The common room was abuzz with students catching up with their friends, reuniting after the time apart, sharing tales of how their Christmases had gone. My eyes swept the common room for Remus, but I didn’t see him. So we bounded toward the stairs up to the boys’ dormitory. We were running so quick to find him that we nearly ran right into Derek Bell, coming out of the seventh year dorms with a sullen look about him.

“Hey! Derek!” shouted James, ignoring the sour expression that twisted Derek’s features, “Sirius got a broom for Christmas. You reckon he could try out for the tourney?”

Derek barely looked at the broom, “Only players on organised teams can try out for the tourney,” he replied. “I’ll see you lot later, alright? I’ve got to go.” he pushed ‘round us and went on down the stairs.

“That’s what I thought,” Sirius said.

“Well blimey, he could’ve been friendlier about it, though,” I said, frowning. 

“What’s got his knickers in a bunch, I wonder? Should be in a better mood after the holidays!” James said.

“Maybe he’s had a bad one, being the first one without his family and all?” Peter suggested.

“Yeah, I s’pose that’s probably it,” James said, a bit more empathy in his tone now.

We continued on up the stairs to the very top, where the second year dorms were, and burst our way in. Remus was sitting on his bed, hunched over a book, and looked up as we came in. His eyes flickered to me with a nervous expression.

“Hey Remus!” I said, hoping the enthusiasm in my voice would answer whatever questions Remus was wrestling with in his head. “How was your holiday?”

“It was good…” Remus’ voice was tentative. He sat up, putting the book down at the end of the bed, studying me as I put my bag down, and the others started unpacking.

“So was ours,” announced Peter, though he kept his eyes averted from Remus’.

James asked, “Is Derek alright?”

Remus replied, “He’s been acting a bit funny, but I reckon it’s because of Christmas and everything.” He still hadn’t looked away from me. “Are you alright?” he asked finally.

“I’m just swell, Re,” I replied.

“Are you sure?” Remus pressed.

“Positive,” I said.

Remus got up and went over, catching me by the arm, turning it over to look at the scars. I frowned as Remus ran his fingers over the marks, which will forever be pale pink and puckered around the edges. “I’m so sorry,” he said thickly.

“Mate, it happens,” I replied. “Did you at least get the blankets?”

“Yeah,” Remus replied.

“Then it wasn’t for naught, eh?” I smiled, “And really, Re, I’m just fine. The marks are actually pretty cool. They make me look dangerous.” I grinned down at them and ran my fingers over them, “Enemies will see ‘em and know I’ve been through battle.”

Remus chuckled in spite of himself. “Anyone else want to go down to the Great Hall for lunch?”

“I’m stuffed from the trolley on the train,” James said, shaking his head and clutching his stomach, “I feel like I might explode if I eat another bite.”

“I actually fancy a nap,” Sirius said.

Peter looked a bit nervous about potentially being with Remus, so he shook his head, “I...I’m not hungry.”

I glared at him, knowing he was full of it, “I’ll go with you, Remus,” I said, “I didn’t really eat much on the train, anyway.”

“Okay, let’s go, then. Bye guys, I’m glad you’re back,” Remus said, and he waved them off as he and I headed out of the dorms.

For the most part, we made our way through the castle to the Great Hall in silence. We were just glad to be in one another’s company once again.

We were on the moving staircases before I spoke, “Anything new about the castle?” I asked as we waited for the staircase to stop at the landing we wanted.

“I suppose not a whole lot, really,” Remus replied, shrugging. “There’s a rumour going around that Professor Blythe may be on a probation, but nobody knows why and of course there’s been no classes to confirm it.”

“Odd,” I said.

The staircases aligned and the two of us hopped off the end and continued on our way to the Great Hall. “I told Lily,” Remus said lowly a moment later, when we were in an empty corridor.

I looked up at Remus in surprise, “You told Lily what? About...your situation?”

Remus nodded.

My eyebrows went up, “Really? What did she say?”

“She seemed alright about it. It hasn’t really come up again, though, which is odd. I wondered for a bit if I’d dreamed telling it to her, but I know I didn’t. We were in the Trophy Room.”

“You showed her the Trophy Room?” I asked.

Remus shrugged, “She won’t tell. She rather liked it in there.”

I hummed, picturing her cosying up in one of those cushions in the alcove. It was a nice thing to think about, and I hoped she would be a little bit more lax about rules now.

“I still can’t believe we found McGonagall’s picture in there. She definitely doesn’t seem the type.”

“I know!” Remus exclaimed, “But I think perhaps she is, deep down, under all that sternness now. Maybe she’s only so stern because she knows what sort of mischief people can get up to about the castle...because she was once the one getting into it!”

I laughed.

We’d reached the Great Hall by now and settled ourselves onto the benches at the Gryffindor table. There were a few other students, still lingering over their plates of food and talking. Bilius was at the far end of the table with his top hat, showing Andy Tinnamin how he’d wooed a Muggle girl back home by pulling a white rabbit from inside of it. “Absolutely amazed,” he laughed boisterously. “I’m telling you, this being Of Age stuff is splendid, An. Just wait ‘til your birthday hits, you’ll be amazed. The ladies dig it.”

Remus and I ate our fill while watching Bilius reenact the trick he’d done for the girl, transfiguring a knut he’d tucked up his sleeve and let drop into the top hat’s depths when he reached in, pulling out the newly magicked rabbit. “And the best part is it only costs a knut! I let her keep the rabbit at the end and she was just tickled.”

Andy clapped. “You’re mad, but I love your style,” he chuckled.

We started back to the dorms when we’d finished, once again mostly in content silence, until we bumped into Severus Snape. He was on the fifth floor, carrying a bit of parchment and muttering to himself, looking a bit lost and scowling. “What’re you doing here, Snape?” I sniped.

Snape looked up in surprise from his parchment, having been too absorbed in whatever he was doing to hear the two of us approaching. His surprise quickly melted into a frown. “I might ask you both the same.”

“We’re on our way back to our dorms,” Remus said. “You know the way to Gryffindor Tower, obviously, with all the stalking you’ve done after Evans.”

Snape shrugged, “I’m simply out for a stroll. Not everything is your business.” 

I replied, “You ought to go back to the dungeons, where you belong. You gave us such grief last year for being in the dungeons, seems to me there’s a double standard.”

“Enough, Sabrina,” sighed Remus, “C’mon.” He quickly grabbed hold of my shoulder and directed me along to the next landing of the stairs. “Stop trying to pick fights where they needn’t be.”

“Well he’s where he needn’t be, too,” I scowled.

Remus didn’t respond. He simply got me onto the next staircase and we zoomed off, away from Severus Snape and whatever it was he was doing on the fifth floor. I couldn’t help but stare back at the dark form of Snape, though, as we rushed up the steps and away. There really was no reason for him to be up this high in the castle while classes weren’t running. It wasn’t as though he could have a homework question for any of the professors...most of them didn’t even frequent their offices when classes weren’t running.


	25. 3rd January, 1973

The first Defense Against the Dark Arts class back from the holidays was highly anticipated among the students as everyone waited with baited breath to see if the rumours flying about the castle about Professor Blythe were true. There was quite a bit of variety to the stories that were being passed about, student-to-student, concerning what had gone on. Some were saying that Blythe had been caught stealing something and others said she’d been found to secretly be one of the Death Eaters that followed about after You-Know-Who. One rumour going about was that Cyrilla Blythe had been caught in the act of contacting the Dark Lord and that she’d been quarantined under a 24-hour watch and her connecting to the Floo Network blocked until they could be sure that she was not a Death Eater after all. Others even went so far as to claim that the teacher, who had not been seen about the castle since the night of the incident, had been sent to Azkaban.

How much of any of that was true was hard to say.

The only thing that seemed certain was that Professor Blythe would not be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts until further notice was given, though no official notices were passed out, meaning there would be no delay in the start of classes for Defense, which meant that someone would be teaching the classes during Professor Blythe’s absence. For the second term in a row, the identity of the new Defense professor was driving everyone mad with curiosity.

“Perhaps, if she’s on probation, we’ll have Professor Moody again,” I said eagerly as we walked down the corridor to the Defense classroom first thing this morning. I’d rather liked the one-eyed Auror that had taken over classes the year before when Tutman had gone.

“It won’t be Moody,” Remus said.

“How d’you know?” I asked, disappointed.

“Because he’s busy, isn’t he?” Remus pointed out, “With everything that’s going on...all the murders and rubbish that You-Know-Who is doing...there’s no way that he has time to come teach us. He’s busy trying to defeat the Dark Lord!”

“Well it would’ve been cool if it was him,” Sirius said.

“Yeah it would’ve!” agreed James, “I wouldn’t have minded hearing what’s really going on out there.”

We’d arrived at the classroom and Lily was already sitting on the floor opposite the door, as usual, reading. She looked up as we approached and closed her book, standing up and dusting off. Remus migrated to the opposite side of Peter to stand closer to Lily as they came to a stop in the hall before the door to Defense class.

“See anybody yet?” I asked as we approached her.

Lily shook her head, “No signs of Blythe or any other Professors at all. I haven’t been here very long, though,” she shrugged.

James went up to the door and listened. “Well nobody’s in there,” he announced, backing away, “Unless they’re impossibly quiet.”

We soon heard footsteps coming from down the hall. We looked and saw Professor McGonagall making her way toward us, carrying a box, and looking as sharp as usual. She glanced about at the six of us as she approached the Defense door. James hopped out of her way. “Morning, Professor,” he said. He looked at the five of us with wide eyes as McGonagall pointed her wand at the Defense door and the locks clicked and the door swung open.

“Good morning Mister Potter,” McGonagall replied, “In you go.” She waved the six of us through and followed behind after Remus, the last of us through. We hurried to our seats and watched as McGonagall went up to the front of the classroom and put the box down on the desk.

Cyrilla Blythe was nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning, Gryffindors,” McGonagall said, “Can anyone tell me where we are in the text in this class?”

I raised my hand.

“Yes, Miss Stratford?” McGonagall asked, turning to inspect the chalkboard.

I asked, “Where is Professor Blythe?”

McGonagall turned, a long piece of chalk clutched between her fingertips. “I will be teaching this class for today, Miss Stratford,” she replied with a straight lip.

“Yeah, but where is Professor Blythe?” Sirius asked without raising his hand.

McGonagall took a deep breath and tucked her hands together before her, pausing to think how to answer the question. She paused just long enough that James supplied, “Did she really get tossed into Azkaban?”

“Tossed into Azkaban?” Professor McGonagall looked astonished, “Whatever for?”

“Being in with You-Know-Who,” Peter spoke up.

McGonagall’s eyebrows were raised high upon her forehead. “Is that what’s going about this school? Merlin’s beard!” She shook her head, “No,” she said firmly, “Miss Blythe is not in Azkaban. She is under a small investigation, but--”

“For being in with the Dark Lord?” Sirius blurted out.

“Seems being a Death Eater would require more than a small investigation!” I exclaimed.

Professor McGonagall looked a mix of cross and perplexed, “Miss Blythe is not suspected of being a Death Eater,” she said.

“But she was caught trying to contact him, wasn’t she?” squeaked Peter.

“For goodness sake,” sputtered McGonagall, “The rumours this school pushes about are positively mind-bending.” She shook her head, a sour expression on pursed lips. “No, Miss Blythe was not caught trying to contact You-Know-Who.” She turned back to the blackboard. “Now, which of you can tell me what page we are on in the textbook for this class?” She started writing her name on the board...as though we didn’t know who she was.

Lily raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Evans?”

“Professor...if Professor Blythe isn’t in Azkaban, and she isn’t teaching the class, for whatever circumstances...I beg your pardon but,” Lily’s face was contorted with question, “Where is she?”

Professor McGonagall put down the chalk rather hard - it made a clicking sound in the tray so loud that it was rather obvious the piece had broken. A very stern expression had come over the head of house's face. She stared at Lily and the rest of us for a good long moment. “It is none of your business exactly where Professor Blythe is, suffice it to say that she will be returning once things have been taken care of in the proper manner. Hopefully, you’ll only be needing to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts from me for today. However you do need to learn Defense from me and therefore I should very much like it if one of you...and one of you, I don’t care which one...gives me the page number we are on for the textbook so that we may begin the lesson.” She looked about us, challenging us.

“211,” Peter said quietly.

“Thank you, Mister Pettigrew,” Professor McGonagall said, turning to the desk and pulling a copy of the Defense textbook from the box she’d carried in. The copy was quite old and I could see it had notes scribbled all about the margins of it. She flipped through the pages quickly to 211 and her eyes scanned the page for a moment. Finally, she looked up and said, “Alright. Let us begin.”

***

“So where’s Professor Blythe, then?” Frank Longbottom asked, leaning across the table in the Great Hall several hours later as we set ourselves down for lunch. “You lot were the first to have Defense...again. How do you keep getting so lucky?”

I shook my head, “We don’t know anything new, really, except the rumours are false and Professor McGonagall taught our class. She wouldn’t tell us where Professor Blythe is. Only that she isn’t in Azkaban and she isn’t a suspected Death Eater.” I took a sandwich from the pile on the lunch tray.

“McGonagall is teaching Defense?” said Frank.

“Yeah,” said Sirius, “Quite well, too. We learned loads. She could really teach any class in the school, I reckon.”

Shadows passed over us and I looked up to see the seventh years, having just arrived, sit on the opposite side of the table, beyond Frank. Frank then turned to Derek, Bilius, and Andy. “You lot heard the news? McGonagall’s teaching Defense ‘til Blythe comes back.”

“Bloody hell, McGonagall in Defense!” Bilius exclaimed, “Now there’s something I can’t wait to see.”

Andy said, “I suspect she’s brilliant at it.”

“She said Blythe will be back soon,” said Sirius.

“Did she say where Blythe is at?” Bilius asked. “I mean, if she’s coming back then Azkaban like they’re saying is out.”

Derek, who was focusing entirely too hard on the bread he was smearing a bit of butter on, said, “I told you she isn’t a Death Eater and that she wasn’t going to Azkaban.”

“I was just telling you what I heard,” Bilius replied.

“She didn’t say where Blythe is,” said James, shrugging, “Refused to talk about it after a few questions.”

Derek replied, “Perhaps the matter’s personal...ever think of that? Of course not, the gossip mill is far too active in this school to let something rest as a personal matter.” He ran the knife too hard and stabbed the bread clear in two. He sighed and put the knife down.

Bilius gave Derek a funny look. “We just like to know, that’s all,” he said. He tilted the ridiculous top hat he was still wearing about so that some of the wildy curly red hair beneath showed.

“We know Cyrilla,” said Derek firmly, “You know she wouldn’t be a Death Eater. Or has the two years since she was sitting here at this very table been long enough that you’ve forgotten her entirely?”

“Bloody hell, mate,” Bilius said, “Relax, will you? It’s just that two years is a good stretch of time and things change. People change.”

“People who are good don’t just become Death Eaters for no reason,” Derek snapped. He pushed his plate away and stood up. “I’m not hungry,” he declared, and stormed out of the Great Hall.

Andy turned to watch him go, then turned to Bilius, “Well, that was interesting.”

“You know he fancies her,” Bilius said, shrugging, “He always did.”

“Fancies who? Blythe?” Sirius asked, looking surprised.

“Oh yes,” said Bilius, nodding and reaching over to Derek’s abandoned plate to take some of the chips he’d left behind. “Cyrilla was a couple years ahead of us, but she and Derek were a couple since our third year. He was thirteen, she was fifteen. It was a bit of a scandal.”

“Hang on,” I said, “You mean they were together?”

Bilius nodded, biting into a chip dipped in ketchup. “Cyrilla was in fifth year and invited him to the Yule Ball and they were together for the next three years after that off and on. Then she broke up with him after holiday in her seventh year, and Derek did rather terrible at his O.W.L.S. because of it. He was a shoo-in to be Prefect before that. Then his marks came back and...well, I s’pose that’s how I ended up being Prefect.” He shrugged.

Lily looked sad, “He must’ve been heartbroken.”

Bilius shrugged, “I mean, it’s what happens when you’re a teenager, isn’t it? You see somebody and you break up with them, and then you swoon a bit and you get over it and see somebody else. That’s how it works ‘til you find the right person. You never end up with the first person you fancy at school. Anybody who says they did is full of it. There’s far too many choices to try on for that. I’m sure there’s people you lot fancy.”

Remus and Lily exchanged a glance. James look down at his sandwich. Peter turned red, and Sirius and I shrugged, but a pit formed in my stomach. I don’t THINK I fancy anybody, do I?

“Well, if you don’t know, you will soon enough,” replied Bilius. He poured more ketchup over his chips and a bit more salt.

Remus reached for Lily’s hand on the bench beneath the table and he squeezed her fingers, and she squeezed his fingers back while I pretended not to notice it.


	26. 13th and 14th January, 1973

13th January, 1973

Quidditch during the winter is probably my least favourite part of being on the team. I decided this when I woke up and shivered as I put on my Quidditch robes, so cold I could scarcely do up the buttons. The window showed a grey and dismal day outside as the finest sleet tapped against the glass. I made sure I double padded the socks in my trainers. Lily happened to be up for some reason, despite it being around the crack of dawn. 

Derek had demanded everyone be up this early this morning for the match against Slytherin, and he wanted to be sure we had plenty of time to talk over strategies in the locker rooms before taking the pitch. So I was surprised to see her reading a book on her bed, in her pyjamas. She looked up as I got ready, biting the ends of my gloves as I tightened them around my wrists to keep them from falling off.

“How come you’re up so early?” I said, to have a bit of small talk. I didn’t hear any voices down by the common room, so I guess I had woken up just a little earlier than I had planned.

“I just couldn’t sleep,” Lily shrugged. “Thought I’d be a bit productive and read ahead instead.”

I chuckled, amused. I had wondered how she felt about a certain topic, so I decided to attempt to deftly bring it up. “So Remus told you...stuff, I heard,” I said after an awkward pause. Good job, Stratford, I thought, subtlety is TRULY your strong suit.

Lily nodded without looking up.

“What do you think about it?” I asked.

Lily held up a finger, her lips forming around the words on the pages she was reading until she came to the end of a sentence, then she pressed one finger against the spot she’d left off and looked at me. “What do you mean by that? What I think about it?”

I shrugged, “I mean, surely you have some sort of thought or...or opinion on it, yeah?”

Lily thought for a moment, and then replied, “I think I understand why Remus was sorted into Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw.” Her green eyes seemed even greener in the low lighting, if that were possible. Dark like a forest, rather than their usual bottle colour. She ran her fingers along the edges of the pages of her book thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” I agreed, “I reckon it probably takes an awful lot of courage to be Remus Lupin.” I nodded.

“How long have you known about it?” Lily asked.

“He told Sirius, Peter, James and I last term. About a year now, I s’pose...wow, that was a quick year.” I rubbed the back of my neck thoughtfully. “I figured it out and sort of...sort of confronted him about it.”

Lily looked shocked. “Confronting a friend about knowing their darkest secret. Guess there’s no question why you were sorted Gryffindor.” She gave a soft laugh, and I blushed a bit.

I heard a bit of dampened noise coming from downstairs, so I pointed to the door. “Guess that’s my cue. You’re coming to the match, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

I flashed a toothy grin and headed down the stairs into the common room. It seemed like Frank Longbottom and Jacob Woodhouse were already downstairs, with their Quidditch robes on. Jacob carried his Keeper pads as well. The others followed along not much longer and we all made our way down to the pitch. All except Derek.

“Where’s Derek at?” James asked, looking at Bilius and Andy.

Bilius shrugged. “We assumed he was down here with you lot already,” Andy answered.

As though being summoned, the portrait door flew open and Derek Bell came through. He looked surprised to see the entire team already waiting for him in the common room. He glanced at a shiny new watch on his wrist and said, “Blimey, I didn’t realise it was so late.”

“Late?” echoed Frank with a yawn, “You call this late?”

“Let me go and put on my Quidditch robes,” Derek said, heading for the stairs. “You know, if you lot wanted to head down to the pitch, I’ll follow along in just a second!” He disappeared up to the seventh year dorms.

I looked ‘round at Bilius with my eyebrows raised.

Bilius sighed, “Alright you lot, you heard the Captain…” and he motioned toward the portrait hole.

“What if we get down there and he keeps us waiting all over again?” Jacob Woodhouse complained.

“He won’t keep us waiting again…” said Bilius, though his voice wasn’t that confident when he’d said it. He led the way, nonetheless, into the corridor, and the rest of us followed along, taking it in turns to pass a yawn about us as we made our way through the castle.

Derek didn’t keep us waiting very long. He arrived at the team locker room in no time at all, pushing along one of the blackboards that Madam Hooch kept in the pitch house for use in planning out strategies. Derek swept a piece of chalk over the board, drawing out complicated plays and explaining what each of us were meant to do. “It’s Slytherin, don’t forget,” he said, “They’re likely to play a bit dirty and a bit rough, so we need to be prepared for that as well.”

“It’s Slytherin,” said Bilius, correcting Derek’s words, “They always play very dirty and very rough.”

James and I exchanged a nervous look. “But Madam Hooch will call a penalty if they’re too bad, won’t she?” he asked.

“Assuming she catches them,” mumbled Frank. “They’re bloody sneaky about it.”

“And there’s usually so much dirty play going on that it’s right hard to keep up,” Andy Tinnamin added.

“Just play your best,” Derek said, “Don’t get dirty back. I want our team to win, but I want us to win cleanly and well, not because we’re bullies on brooms.”

***

Later at night, we returned to the common room, soaked and frozen to the core.

Despite all the planning, the game had gone poorly...though partly because of the Slytherin team’s nasty showmanship. Several penalties had been called, it was true, but several more easily could’ve been. I had sustained a rather sizable bruise from a bludger before Frank could fend it off. James had been hit in the leg by the bat of one of the Slytherin Beaters, who had claimed he’d thought he saw a bludger, but there hadn’t been one anywhere near James at the time...only the Quaffle, which James had been about to shoot through one of the rings.

All in all we Gryffindors were quite discouraged as we tromped back into the common room, followed by the rest of the house. At least we were finally away from the cheering, gloating Slytherins, who had shouted and jeered all the way across the grounds from the pitch.

“That was awful,” groaned Bilius, dropping into the cushions of the couch and covering his eyes, letting his Beater’s bat fall to the floor at his feet. Water dripped from the ends of his hair as he leaned his head back.

Derek set himself to pacing before the fireplace. “At least we played a clean game. We didn’t resort to the rubbish they did. We may not have gotten the points towards the House Cup, sure, but we’re not entirely out of the running...that’s the first loss we’ve had this season, and I’ll be quite justified in taking more of you lot to the tourney than some of those awful Slytherin players. The tourney has to be fought clean or it’ll reflect poorly on Hogwarts. So there’s that. And Dumbledore said that each player on the tourney team will represent a hundred points for their house. So the House Cup could still be Gryffindor’s…”

***

“Well Derek was a helluva lot more cheerful tonight than he has been,” said Sirius that night as we climbed the stairs. “He’s been storming and stewing about the castle all week.”

“I know,” I said, nodding, “And he was a lot more attentive out on the pitch today than he’s been too.”

“True, he was loads less distracted,” James replied, “We might’ve lost but it certainly wasn’t because any of us played a poor game on the Gryffindor team. It’s those ridiculous Slytherins that’s done it. Did you see that one play, that when Isaac Horan bloke nearly took my ankle with his bat?”

Remus spoke up, “He’s in that awful Slug Club thing that Professor Slughorn drags Lily, Sabrina and I off to every now and then.” He frowned.

“Whatever for?” demanded James.

Remus shrugged, “He’s supposed to be Slytherin’s star player, isn’t he? I reckon that’s why.”

I rolled my eyes, “Not very bright for a star.”

Peter laughed a little too loud at the joke, and we all turned ‘round to look at him. “It was funny,” he said defensively.

In my dorm, after changing into our pyjamas, Lily and I snuggled under our blankets, and set up a game of Wizard’s Chess. Peter had let me borrow his set for a bit, and it was really cool how the pieces moved and attacked each other on their own. It was some time that we spent there in the room in peace, not really talking. The only sounds included the ticking of sleet on the window, the whistling of the wind, the occasional comment from one of us, and the clattering of the pieces.

At least, until the silence was split by a spine-chilling shriek.

I sat up quickly, and almost knocked the set over in the process. Lily and I looked at one another in the silence that followed the scream, and then we rushed for the door at the same time.

There was a commotion in the common room. An owl perched on the back of the high chair by the fire, watching with serene eyes over the scene before him. One of the fourth year girls was collapsed on the carpet by the table, Bilius Weasley kneeling beside her, her head resting on his knee as two other fourth year girls fretted, one fanning her with a bit of parchment, as the girl on the floor sobbed, clutching a scrolled-up letter to her chest.

Once Remus saw how horrified Lily looked, he moved over to her quickly. “What’s going on?” He asked.

“That’s Amelia Parry,” Lily replied, “And I’m not certain exactly what’s happened but...but somebody’s been killed by the sounds of it.”

I hung my head with concern.

“Somebody go get McGonagall!” Bilius shouted, “And Pomfrey as well!”

“I’ll go,” Sirius offered, and he bolted for the door as quick as lightning, disappearing through the portrait hole, followed quickly by James.

“More deaths,” whispered Peter, fretting and kneading his fingers together, “Isn’t there anybody that’s safe?”

I shook my head, “It doesn’t seem as though there is, Peter.”

Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey arrived at nearly the same time just minutes after James and Sirius had gone for them. Amelia was led shakily, still sobbing, out of the common room, leaning upon McGonagall for support as Pomfrey made a fuss and tried to give the girl some potion to comfort and calm her. Bilius followed them as far as the portrait hole before McGonagall bid him to stay. “We can take care of Miss Parry from here, Mister Weasley.” He nodded and watched as the portrait hole swung closed.

14th January, 1973

In the rush of conversation that followed Amelia Parry’s departure came the truth that it was in fact her father who had been killed...as well as a Muggle family to whom the Parrys were rather close. The story was in the Daily Prophet this morning as well, revealing even more information about what had happened. It had been the dead of night and Mrs. Parry had heard a funny sound next door, where the Muggles lived, and woke her husband, whose protective charms were all over the Muggle house. He had run to check on the Muggles and moments later their home had been destroyed, killing every living creature within - including three Muggle children, their parents, their pet cat, and, of course, Mr. Parry. The explosion was being investigated, but it was strongly believed by the Aurors to be the work of Death Eaters.

Lily cried at the table in the Great Hall while reading the article. Remus put an arm ‘round her shoulders and her tears spilled into his chest while James and I tried not to look at them. Sirius was busy hoping it hadn’t been Orion or Walburga that had done it. For once, Peter was not the only Gryffindor at the table that seemed sick with nerves as a result of the story. He was just one of the many.

James scoffed, breaking into the conversation, “Isn’t everything that Voldemort does cowardly? Hiding behind followers, rather than doing the dirty work himself. He thinks he’s so great...ha!” James shook his head, “He’s nothing but a coward. And I’ll tell him that to his face, too,” he added, “If I’m ever given the chance again.”


	27. 21st January, 1973

I lay awake beneath the canopy of my bed, one arm bracing up my head, the other flung across my chest, deep in thought as the night passed by. The light of the full moon danced across the room.

It’s been about a week since the news of Mr. Parry had reached Hogwarts. Professor Blythe had not yet returned to her post as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, though she had been seen at the faculty table during a couple of dinners and breakfasts, ending the rumours that she’d been sent off to Azkaban, at least. McGonagall, who continued to teach in Blythe’s absence, was no more giving of detail than she’d been that first day, however, and we were no closer to knowing the truth of the matter at hand than we’d ever been. We spent many whispered conversations in the common room or at the table in the Great Hall speculating about what was going on with Professor Blythe, but none of the theories seemed to solve the mystery.

But I wasn’t thinking about Professor Blythe, though. Rather, I was thinking once more about Remus, out there in the Shrieking Shack. I sighed and shifted my weight, my eyes turned to the frame of the window, at the edge of the moon’s orb peeking ‘round the towers of the castle, the pale blue light gleaming in my eye. I hated the full moon nearly as much as Remus did, by this point. Guilt filled my stomach and churned within me too thickly to sleep. I ran my fingers over the pink scars that marked my arm and frowned, pained at the idea that Remus may be inflicting pain upon himself out there right at that very moment, without a soul about to stop him.

If only there was a way, I thought, to stop the wolfish instincts from taking over, some way to keep Remus being REMUS once he’d turned. But I could clearly recall the bloodthirsty glistening in the wolf’s eyes the month before and I shivered. There didn’t seem to have been any words that could still the wolf’s madness within. He was too far gone to understand reasoning and pleading. The only way to speak to him would be to speak in the tongue of an animal and that, obviously, was quite impossible a task.

I clutched my duvet from the foot of the bed and pulled it closer ‘round my chin.

***

The first rays of dawn were creeping in the window when I awoke from a light snooze that I had fallen into, rousing with the slightest sound. I groaned, remembering I had to get ready for Quidditch practice. 

I got up groggily and pulled the robes from my trunk. I fastened my cloak ‘round my shoulders and pulled on my gloves, making sure to get ready silently, so not to wake Lily up.

I grabbed my broom and met James down in the common room. To my surprise, Sirius had decided to come along.

“I can’t sleep,” Sirius replied, when I asked why he was up so early. “I thought I’d watch a spot of Quidditch and get some fresh air. Plus, maybe I can take notes for what to do next term.”

“Alright, but it’s going to be really cold out there,” I warned.

Sirius shrugged, “Bah. The cold doesn’t bother me.”

Practice was awful. It was loads harder than usual, Derek pressing us to do more challenging plays and fly more laps than we normally did. James and I rejoined Sirius after it had ended, and we were on our way back up to the castle. “Bloody hell,” complained James, “Derek was a ruddy monster!” He shook his head.

“Cheers to that,” I sighed, switching which shoulder I carried my broom upon, “You know, Sirius, the only reason he finally ended the practice, even now, was because Bilius threatened mutiny if he didn’t let up?”

“Can’t say I blame him,” Sirius said with a laugh, “If it was half as cold on the pitch as it was up in the stands, I’d have called it long before even he did. Only reason I’m not frozen solid to the bench is thanks to Hagrid. He came up to the stands to keep me company and gave me some of his tea!”

We stepped into the castle and on to the Great Hall, followed by the other team members, and had our seats about the Gryffindor table, laughing as we pulled plates of food to ourselves and began to thaw out in the warmth of the room. “There you lot are!” called Peter’s voice a few minutes later. He crossed the Hall and joined us at the table, a cross look about his face, “Where were you? I woke up and found all the beds empty except my own!”

“James and Sabrina had practice first thing,” Sirius explained, “And I couldn’t sleep, so I went along to watch.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up, too?” Peter complained.

“Be glad they didn’t, Pete, it was frigid out there,” I said.

Sirius nodded, “The wind was howling through the stands and biting my nose clean off, it seemed.”

Peter pouted, still upset we hadn’t included him. “You always leave me out,” he complained.

“What’re you talking about? Don’t be stupid,” James said, “You were asleep!”

“You should’ve woke me up,” Peter argued.

“Whatever for? You aren’t part of the team,” Sirius said.

“Well neither are you,” Peter pointed out.

I answered, “Well he wants to be next year, remember? You don’t.”

“You would have woken Remus,” Peter said sourly.

Sirius rolled his eyes, “No, we wouldn’t have.”

“If he’d been there, you would’ve,” Peter argued.

Frank Longbottom looked over, suddenly tuning into the conversation. “Where is Remus?” He asked, looking over at the four of us, realising he wasn’t there.

Sirius glared at Peter, who flinched, having not meant to call attention to Remus’ absence. 

“He wasn’t feeling well last night, pretty late,” James fabricated, “He went down to Pomfrey’s.”

“Oh...is he alright?” Frank looked concerned.

“I’m sure he’s just fine,” I lied with a shrug, “Probably just ate something that digested funny.”

Frank nodded understandingly, “I felt a bit queasy last night myself, now you’ve said it,” he agreed, “P’haps the house elves undercooked some of the meat or something.”

“Probably,” said Sirius quickly, glad for Frank’s hypochondria.

“I’m sure the elves didn’t mean to do that,” stammered Peter, emphasising the words he meant for Sirius to take as an apology.

Sirius scoffed, catching the message Peter was sending him, but not accepting it. “The elves had better be more careful in the future,” Sirius said pointedly, “We wouldn’t want anyone to end up hurt over it.”

Peter swallowed back his nerves and stood up quickly, his bench scraping loudly on the floor of the Hall. “I better go,” he announced, and he turned before anyone could react or say a word to him, scurrying away.

Frank looked up, “I’m sure whatever it is is fine; nothing Pomfrey can’t mend with a good elixir.” He stared after Peter’s retreating back as he ducked out of the Great Hall. “He really is a bit of a worrier, isn’t he? Peter, I mean.” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You have no idea,” I groaned.

***

Sirius, James and I were in the library. Madam Pince, the librarian, eyed us suspiciously as we moved through the shelves, looking at the dusty spines of books. 

“There’s no such thing as a wolf language,” said James, following as I led the way through the shelves. “It’s not like learning Italian or French, there isn’t a textbook on speaking in bark.”

I said, “There’s got to be a spell or something that could make it possible…”

James and Sirius sighed.

I had shared with the two boys about how talking to Remus in his wolfish form might help him remember himself and cut back on some of the injuries that he returned with from the Shrieking Shack each month. “If only we could ask Madam Pince, I’m sure she would know where to look for a spell like that,” I murmured, pulling a book about caring for magical creatures down from the shelf and flipping through it, hoping for a chapter on communication. The book held everything from fang cleaning to Ministry classifications but nothing about how to go about learning to talk in your pet’s language. I jammed the book back on to the shelf.

“She’d want to know why we want to talk to a wolf,” James argued, “And what’re we supposed to tell her? It’s not as though there’s wolves walking ‘round the castle every day.”

“Well, in a way there is,” Sirius said with a smirk.

“Yes, but we can talk to him regularly when he is,” James said.

Sirius leaned against the shelves behind me, his eyes scanning the titles as I pulled another volume down. “The only way to speak in the animal tongue is to be an animal,” he said.

I paused. “Wait. Say that again.”

Sirius looked at me with a question on his brow. “What?”

“Say that again.”

“What, the only way to speak in animal tongue is to be an animal?”

I slammed the book shut, “That’s it. Merlin’s beard, that’s it.” I darted away down the aisle and out of the section on magical creatures and ducked ‘round the corner.

James and Sirius gathered themselves and followed after me, confused, and joined me in the Transfiguration section. “What was that all about?” James asked.

Sirius looked up at the tomes that filled the shelves. “What are you looking for now?”

“You’re brilliant, Sirius, you really are,” I said, grinning, “If we’re going to talk to Remus when he’s a wolf, then we need to be wolves ourselves...we need to transfigure ourselves.”

James looked warily at me, “You can’t transfigure a human into an animal. You need to be able to keep your wits about you and if you transfigure yourself, you’d be likely to lose your human abilities.”

“Yes, if we straight up transfigured ourselves we would,” I agreed. I spotted the title I needed up on the top shelf and I quickly climbed up on the lower shelves to reach it. Sirius held a hand up to catch me in case I fell.

“Be careful, will you? Pince will murder us if you fall and break your neck in here,” Sirius hissed.

I grabbed the book and jumped back down to the floor and held it up for them to see.

They stared at it for a second and looked at me. “Oh blimey, you are mental.” James said.

***

It was extremely late this evening, around one in the morning, when James came into the common room, with Peter underneath the cloak with him. When night had come and we still didn’t see hide nor hair of him, James went out to go search for him.

James whipped the invisibility cloak off and Peter tumbled onto the carpet. Sirius and I were downstairs, waiting.

“What took so long?” Sirius asked, a nervous tone to his voice.

“Filch,” James answered, folding the cloak.

My eyes widened, “Did you get caught?”

James nodded at Peter, “He did.” 

“How’d you get out?” Sirius asked.

“I knocked some things down and Filch thought it was Peeves and went after him, threatening to get the Bloody Baron,” James said with a shrug, “You know, the usual.”

Sirius led the way up to the boys’ dorms. “Remus is back, but he’s asleep,” he said quietly. “We haven’t talked to him yet…”

James asked, “How’s he look?” 

Sirius and I exchanged a frown as a response.

Peter went right to bed and pulled the covers up over his head, not even bothering to put his pyjamas on. James leaned around the end of Remus’ bed to get a look at his face.

“Oh bloody hell, what’s he done?” James said, disturbed.

Peter peeked out from under the covers. “What’s happened?” he asked.

I whispered, “He’s got a pretty good gash across his face. Looks like he might’ve scratched himself pretty badly.” There was a tear in the skin of Remus’ cheek that stretched from just under his right eye, across his nose, and onto the left side of his face.

Peter sat up and looked. “Do you think it’ll be leaving a mark, then?” he asked.

“Probably,” whispered Sirius.

James had opened Remus’ nightstand and pulled out the little bottle of ointment that Dumbledore had given Remus for the times after the full moon. It didn’t look as though Remus had put any on the cut, so James unscrewed the cap and very gently dabbed some onto Remus’ face as he slept, smoothing it over the ripped skin. “Hopefully this will lighten it.”

“Should we bring him to Pomfrey?” Peter asked.

“She can’t heal magical wounds,” I answered, “She couldn’t do anything about the cuts on my arm. She’d just want to know what’s done it and what do we tell her then?”

James finished dabbing on the ointment and the line on Remus’ face glistened. He screwed the cap back on the bottle and put it down on Remus’ nightstand. The four of us were still, staring at our friend in a long silence.

Finally, James looked up at me. “We should give it a go.”

My eyes met his. “Yeah?”

James looked at Sirius for his opinion, and the two of them nodded.

“Give what a go?” Peter asked.

Sirius motioned for the lot of us to get away from being gathered around Remus’ bed, and we moved to all sit upon Sirius’ bed, facing each other, our legs tucked up under ourselves. I tugged the book we’d got out of the library earlier that day, under the guise of doing extra credit for Transfiguration.

The book was quite old, with gold-leaf pages. The cover had an embossed image of a wizard slowly transforming into a rabbit. In gold letters that scrolled about the image was the title: Becoming an Animagus.

Peter looked up from the book with wide eyes, “You don’t mean for us to…” I was nodding already, though, and Peter cut himself off, “But what good is that going to do Remus?” he squeaked.

“Perhaps if there was someone there when he changes...in a form that could communicate to him...in wolfish...then perhaps...perhaps he wouldn’t lose himself quite so much as he does. Perhaps he wouldn’t hurt himself.” I sounded a bit desperate. “We can’t go on letting him injure himself like this!” I waved my palm at Remus’ sleeping form. “We have to do something about it. If we all learn to turn into wolves, then we could be with Remus when he turns, we could talk him out of his wolfish fits, and maybe...maybe the change wouldn’t be so terrible for him, if he wasn’t alone and left to be wild with his instincts.”

Peter touched the book softly. “But...aren’t we too young? McGonagall said it was very advanced magic.” 

Sirius shrugged, “I bet it’s not that hard…” he picked up the book and flipped through the pages.

Peter turned to James, but James didn’t look nervous about it at all. Peter then turned to me. “But if we become animaguses…”

“Animagi,” corrected James.

“...animagi,” Peter repeated, “Then we’ll have to register. Don’t you reckon they’d want to know why we became animagi?”

“Register smedgister!” Sirius said, waving off the thought with a floppy wrist.

Peter’s eyes widened even further (if that was possible), “But McGonagall said that those who don’t register their animagus form go to Azkaban,” he sputtered, “I don’t want to go to Azkaban!”

“We’ll only go to Azkaban if we get caught at it,” I said, “And besides, that’s only for criminals that aren’t registered. We aren’t going to commit any crimes, are we, Peter?”

“Well no, but…”

“Okay then, see? We’ll be fine!”

Peter looked dizzy. “This isn’t a good idea,” he said, shaking his head, “It’s a bad idea, it’s not safe. What if Remus eats one of us?”

James replied, “He’s not going to eat one of us. That’s why we’ll become wolves too, and…”

“You don’t get to pick what form of animagus you are!” Peter said excitedly, sure he’d found the loophole that would keep us from doing this crazy thing. “Remember? McGonagall said it’s like a patronus, you don’t get to decide, it’s like a spirit animal thing. You become what best fits your personality! You might not be a wolf, you might end up being something that would make a good crunchy snack for a wolf...like a mouse or bird.”

I hadn’t thought of that. I rubbed my chin and pursed my lips, thinking, chewing on the inside of my mouth. “Hmmm.” I felt quite stumped, so I looked at Sirius and James.

“It doesn’t hurt to give it a go,” James said, shrugging. “At worst, we do really well at our Transfiguration exams.”

“Now that’s the spirit,” I said, my mouth splitting into a grin.

“But it’s an awful lot of work,” Peter complained. “Haven’t we got enough work already?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “Well, what’s more important? Getting an Exceeds Expectations in Potions or keeping Remus from maiming himself beyond repair? Don’t you want to protect your friend?”

Peter swallowed, “Of course I want to protect him,” he squeaked.

“Well then!” Sirius said, “Sabrina’s idea’s the best one we’ve got. We just need to get a little bit more information on how to become animagi...this book is rather rubbish at the how-to details.”

“Probably they don’t want lunatics like you three just taking a book out and trying to do it,” Peter mumbled.

“We could ask McGonagall,” I said, ignoring Peter’s comment, “Make it sound like we’re just interested in the topic. Theoretically.”

Sirius nodded, “I like it.” He rubbed his palms together. “Now, I do think that we need to keep this a secret from you-know-who,” he said,

“From Voldemort?” Peter asked, confused.

“No, dummy, from Remus,” Sirius said. “He needn’t know about it yet, just in case we can’t do it for some reason. We’ll tell him once we’ve got it all figured out, if we can, so that he doesn’t end up disappointed if we can’t. I don’t want to build his hopes up just to dash them. I imagine this will mean a great deal to him.”

James nodded, “I agree.”

“I guess it’s settled then,” I said. I glanced over at Remus. “I do hope this works,” I whispered as the ointment on Remus’ face glistened across his nose.


	28. 22nd January, 1973

Professor McGonagall was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again. All through class, Sirius and James kept making eyes at me. When the class was over, I hung back, stuffing my books into my bag as James and Sirius quickly hurried Peter and Remus out of the room. “Are you coming, Sabrina?” Lily called from the doorway, hesitating and looking back at me as I procrastinated, adjusting the way my quills were lined up in the pocket for me in my bag.

“Go on, Lily,” I said, “I’ll catch up.”

Lily lingered a moment longer, then took my advice and ducked into the corridor.

McGonagall had magicked away the dust from the chalkboard and was putting her own things into the box she had carried into the classroom once more. She squinted over her spectacles at me. “What are you still doing here, Miss Stratford?” she asked crisply.

James, Sirius and I had talked at length about exactly what to say to McGonagall when the time came for the conversation, so I knew the words. But hesitation was a part of the act I was supposed to give. I tried my very best to look up at her as though I hadn’t meant to bother her, as though I wasn’t even sure I ought to bother her…

“Stratford?” McGonagall reached up and removed the reading glasses from her nose, putting them into the box.

“Well, Professor...if you don’t mind...I actually do have a few questions about Transfiguration.”

“You do, do you?” McGonagall asked, one eyebrow raised. “Is it to do with your assignment?”

I shook my head, “No...not exactly.” I chewed my lip. “It’s just a bit of an interest is all. Sort of a side thing I’m curious about.”

She gathered up the box in her arms, “Do you mind talking while we walk back to my office?” she asked, “I’d be happy to speak with you, but I do have another class to teach this afternoon and I’d like to take my tea…” she paused. “Do you take tea, Miss Stratford?”

“I love tea,” I said.

“Then perhaps you’ll join me.” She motioned for the door and I slung my book bag over my shoulders and followed Professor McGonagall into the corridor and we started walking to the stairwell together. “So what is it that you’re curious about?” she asked me.

I took a deep breath, “Well, ma’am, I was curious about animagi.”

Professor McGonagall looked at me sternly. “Oh?”

“Yes,” I said, “Mostly what it’s like and how hard it is to become one? I imagine it must be quite challenging.”

McGonagall shifted the weight of her box from one arm to the other. “Professor Dumbledore taught me,” she replied, “It took several long years, from my third until my seventh. Mind you, I did a lot of studying on the theory before actually attempting to do the change,” she said. “And I didn’t truly apply myself until well into my sixth year. I was a bit too…” she paused to find the right word, “...unruly prior to that.”

I thought of the photograph in the Trophy Room passage of the young Minerva McGonagall and her mates. Unruly indeed.

“So, in truth, it took you a year of practice?” I asked.

McGonagall shrugged, “Give or take. For the practical portion, of course, not the theory.”

I asked, “How important is the theory of it?”

“As important as any magical theory is,” she replied sternly. “It must be learned in order to fully understand the extent and correct use of one’s powers. Without the theory behind what it is you can do, you’re merely blowing sparks in the wind.”

I looked up at her as we climbed aboard the moving staircase and it zipped about. McGonagall shifted the box’s weight again. I held out my arms, “Can I carry that for you, Professor?” I offered.

“Thank you, Sabrina,” she answered, and handed the box to me.

I clutched the box carefully. “But, theoretically speaking, someone could potentially learn the practical element of being an animagus without actually studying the theory of it, couldn’t they?” I asked.

McGonagall looked down at me. “I suppose, theoretically speaking, someone could do that, yes, though I wouldn’t recommend it.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you interested in becoming an animagus, Miss Stratford?”

I shrugged, “I’m just curious is all.”

“Because what I would recommend to you, if you are interested in becoming an animagus, would be to study the theory and revisit me on the topic in your fourth year, and together we will begin the training you’ll require to become a properly-registered animagus.”

We’d reached the landing as she spoke and I followed alongside her, carrying the heavy box. Although it was nice that she was offering to help me in the quest, I don’t think I could wait until our fourth year to begin practising to be animagi. That’s forcing Remus to be by himself for far too long.

“You’ll need excellent marks in Transfiguration,” she added, “Your marks have been...not bad, but there is much room for improvement.”

“So it is hard then, becoming an animagus?” I said.

“I suppose it’s more about determination,” McGonagall replied. “If you want something badly enough, the level of difficulty does not matter, you will succeed at what you’re trying to do.”

We’d reached her office and she was unlocking it with a key that she wore on a chain around her neck. “Is it like a spell or...or...or what? How do you become an animagus?”

The door unlocked, McGonagall led me into her office and motioned to a table by the door where I could put the box down before moving to her desk, slipping a shawl she’d worn over her shoulders off and putting it over her chair. “It’s a long and rather arduous process,” she said. “It’s something within that must be awoken. These are things you would learn through studying the theory. Most wizards do not find it worth the time it takes as there is very little practical applications for the ability to turn into an animal at will.”

“Other than the cool factor?” I grinned.

“Yes, other than the cool factor, there is very little,” McGonagall said seriously, though the very corner of her mouth quirked ever so slightly. It sounded funny, such a common phrase coming from the mouth of my head of house. McGonagall waved her wand and a little teapot and two cups appeared and she waved it again and the lid jumped from a little tray of biscuits. “Have a biscuit, Stratford,” she said, sitting and letting the pot pour the cups of tea of its own accord.

I took a biscuit, though I didn’t really want one, and held it in my hand, studying it a moment while the pot finished pouring and McGonagall took her first sip. I was trying to decide how to ask what I needed next to know. Finally, I looked up at her. “Professor, theoretically speaking, say someone was trying to become an animagus...are there ways to mess it up terribly?” To keep myself looking innocent, I took a bite of the biscuit.

“Oh yes,” McGonagall replied. “Do the thing incorrectly and one could end up with a bit of themselves only half-transformed. I read of a witch who once attempted to become an animagus and she had only kept the mandrake leaf in her mouth for twenty-nine days instead of the full thirty...simply a miscount, is all, you see...and when she tried to transform, she couldn’t quite do the trick and worse, she couldn’t undo it, either. She lived the rest of her days with the bill of a platypus instead of her nose.”

I choked on my biscuit at the thought of a girl running about with a giant ugly platypus bill on her face. “That’s unfortunate,” I murmured.

“Yes,” McGonagall answered, “Which is why it’s important not to go about the process of becoming an animagus alone,” she emphasised, staring down at me as she dipped a biscuit into her tea.

“Oh, I’d never do it alone,” I replied honestly.

McGonagall seemed satisfied with this answer.

“So thirty days with the leaf of a mandrake in your mouth?” I said, “That’s one of the steps, is it?”

“One of the more important ones, too, as the story of Deborah the Duck-Billed has taught us,” McGonagall answered.

“Professor, are there books that list the steps?” I asked.

“Of course,” she replied, but didn’t expand.

“Are they in the library?” I asked.

McGonagall put her biscuit down on the little saucer alongside her cup and studied me long and hard. “In the restricted section, I imagine.”

“The restricted section, ah yes,” I said. That explained why we hadn’t found anything more than the one book from Madam Pince’s shelves. Like Peter had said, they probably didn’t want students simply deciding to become animagi and having all that they needed to go about the process on a whim. I decided I could get away with asking one more question before McGonagall would begin to get suspicious. “Professor, you mentioned in class that one must register if one is an animagus.”

“Yes,” Professor McGonagall replied. She was selecting a second biscuit from the tin, settling for a flower-shaped one with a very thin layer of orange icing on top. “Every animagus must be registered with the Ministry of Magic. They need a photograph of you in and out of your animagus form, with a list of unique markings, date of first transformation, and wand information. The registry belongs to the Aurors’ office for use in investigation of crimes and so forth.”

“And what happens if, say, an animagus was not registered?” I asked.

“The law would be broken,” she answered, “And the punishment for breaking the law, as you know, is Azkaban.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Ok, but...how would they ever know?”

McGonagall raised her eyebrow. “Theoretically speaking?” 

I nodded, “Theoretically speaking...of course, Professor.”

“Unless you committed a crime, or it was reported by another witch or wizard, or some Ministry official saw the transformation...then, I suppose they wouldn’t,” McGonagall replied with a shrug. “But that doesn’t mean one should do that,” she added quickly.

“I was only curious,” I answered.

McGonagall nodded, “So long as it is only theoretical.”

“Yes, Professor, it is,” I agreed...but inside, I made the addition, for now.

***

Peter was leading us through a tunnel that he had somehow discovered after he stormed out of the Great Hall yesterday. The four of us followed closely behind him. “Blimey, that’s a load of stairs,” complained James when we’d come to the bottom of the long staircase.

“Just wait until you’re going back up them,” Peter warned.

James groaned.

Remus followed along, looking about, clutching the parchment that held the drawings of our map, taking notes and counting our footsteps to see just how far we were going to reach the room filled to the brim with sweets. James had brought along the invisibility cloak. I wore my watch so that we could keep track of the time so we would know to wear the cloak back to Gryffindor Tower if it was past the time we were allowed to be out and about the castle. The last thing we needed was another run-in with Argus Filch.

“I can’t believe you did this yourself!” Sirius exclaimed, slapping Peter on the back proudly, “Good one, Peter.”

“Yeah, mate, good one!” James echoed.

It seemed like precisely the praise Peter had hoped to hear and he puffed up at the sound of their words.

We reached the little stairs that led to the trapdoor in the floor that led into the storeroom, just as Peter had described to us. Remus finally rolled up the parchment and tucked it into the pocket of his robes. We clustered about on the stairs, our ears as close to the door as we could get them, and stood, waiting...listening. There was not a sound to be heard in the room above us, so Sirius, the bravest and most reckless of us, shoved it open heartily.

The storeroom was dark. No light filtered through the snow that framed the window. Sirius waved his still-lit wand about as he climbed out of the trap door and had a look about. He was quickly followed by me, then James, then Peter and finally Remus, who entered a bit more reluctantly.

“All these boxes are filled to the brim with sweets,” Peter said, going to one and opening it up. Inside were scorpion pops and another box beside it held sugar mice.

I peered inside a box and found pumpkin pasties. I licked my lips eagerly and reached in for handfuls of my favourite sweet.

Remus, who had bent low to examine one of the boxes more closely, stood upright. “Wait,” he said urgently, turning to face us just as Sirius was about to bite into a jelly slug, “Don’t eat anything. It’s stealing...we’re in the cellar of--”

But before he could say where, the big purple door at the top of the stairwell burst open.

“Nox!” James shouted, thinking quickly.

“Stupefy!” a deep voice called from the stairs.

“Nox,” hissed Sirius, throwing himself to the floor behind some of the crates. Remus, Peter and I did the same, plunging the storeroom into darkness, save for flying red sparks that flew overhead, bursting against boxes that broke open, spilling chocolate frogs and pepper imps raining over us.

“Stupefy!” The deep voice shouted once again.

There was a scurry of limbs and slamming of the trap door. “Colloportus!” Remus shouted quickly, aiming his sparks at the trap door. “C’mon, run,” he commanded us and before waiting for an answer, we ran away from the door through the dark, stumbling over one another, panting, clutching our sides.

When we reached the bottom of the long staircase, we came to a stop and Remus panted, “That was Honeydukes.”

“Honeydukes?” Peter squeaked.

“Yeah, it was on that map of all the passages, remember?” James choked, clutching hands to knees.

“Guys?” My voice was thick from lack of oxygen, “Where’s Sirius?”


	29. 5th and 10th February, 1973

5th February, 1973

Sirius was very careful to keep his nose clean, leaving early to classes and working extra hard on his assignments so that none of the teachers had anything to complain about him for. He had told us that the shopkeeper had turned him over to Dumbledore, who let him off, but warned that if he kept up with the mischief that he could be expelled. 

And he did not want to be expelled. Even in Potions, Slughorn was amazed by the changes in how hard Sirius was working and praised him eagerly for the improvements. Severus Snape glowered from across the room at them as Slughorn blustered on and on about how grand a job he’d done. I had to all but grab Snape’s head and turn it so he could focus on our potion instead.

It wasn’t until today before we were able to talk him into our next adventure. We needed to get a book on becoming animagi from the restricted section of the library if we planned to see Remus out to the Shrieking Shack anytime this century. “The way McGonagall talked, we’ll be muddling through this for eons,” I reminded him, “So it’s best if we can get started as soon as possible.”

We waited until late in the evening and took out the invisibility cloak from James’ trunk. Peter watched on anxiously as Sirius, James and I ducked under the cloak. He had agreed to stay behind to make sure Remus didn’t become suspicious...and also to open the portrait hole door for us to sneak through without attracting the attention of the other Gryffindors milling about in the common room. The idea was to collect the book from the library and make it back to the dormitory without anybody noticing we’d gone at all.

Remus was sitting in the common room with Lily, working on some homework assignments together and smiling shyly. I rolled my eyes under the cloak as we snuck down the stairs behind Peter, headed for the door of the common room. James, also, seemed less than pleased. “Bloody hell, they need to get on with it if they’re going to,” he whispered.

“You want them to be lying about the common room snogging instead?” Sirius jibed.

“No,” James replied too quickly, “I do not.”

“Methinks we are quick to reply,” Sirius teased, “Look, James, just because you’re jealous of Remus and Lily and all of the snogging he’ll eventually be doing with her…”

“I’m not jealous of Remus and Lily, I’m…”

“Shhh,” Peter hissed. Andy Tinnamin had looked ‘round from the chair he’d commandeered by the fireplace, as though certain he had heard them. Sirius and James had promptly shut up and Peter scurried quickly to the portrait hole. “Going for a walk,” he announced, a little too loudly and too practised.

“Good on you, mate,” said Bilius distractedly from the table where he was hard at work, biting his tongue, writing on a bit of parchment. He turned about in his seat, “Oi...Andy...the cost of my Weasley’s Guide to Dating Attractive Muggle Girls has just gone up a sickle as I’ve come up with yet another brilliant strategy!”

Andy’s face soured,” You’ve got to stop raising the price, mate.”

“Trust me, it’s priceless information you’re receiving, for the mere cost of two galleons and three sickles.”

Andy grumbled, “It can’t both be priceless and have a price, you git.”

Peter quickly opened up the portrait hole and scrambled out, keeping the door open long enough for us to follow along before letting it close. He stood awkwardly in the corridor, unsure where we were. “Well, good luck,” he told the empty space about him.

“You too. Keep him out of your dorm,” I said, “And if he finds we’ve gone, then you don’t know where we went and we’ll think of something when we get back.”

“He’s too busy not snogging Evans to notice us missing anyway,” said James.

Sirius and I snickered and we made our way off down the hallway.

***

We had made it to the library without much incident, our closest call having been nearly running into a Ravenclaw boy who had come running down the corridor shouting to his mates who we’d just passed. It had been a close call as the boy tripped over James’ feet before he could get out the way and went sprawling onto the carpet. Luckily, it was just Xenophilius Lovegood and he was rather known for bizarre things happening to him, and wild stories, so that when he claimed there had definitely been something there…”Nargles,” he said solemnly...the other Ravenclaws he’d been following only giggled amongst themselves before moving on.

The library itself was no worry for being caught. Pince had closed up hours ago and the shelves were left unguarded. A simple Alohamora and we’d sprung the door and snuck our way past the desk where Pince usually roosted, past the long tables that students would crowd ‘round, and through the shelves of regular books until we reached the very dark, blocked-off area marked Restricted Section. To borrow books from this section, you need a note from a Professor granting permission. One look at the titles and it wasn’t very hard to see why they were restricted. Some of them, I felt very relieved, too, as several of the Slytherins surely would’ve used the spells contained within on somebody by now if they had been allowed free access to the books.

“Alright, let’s see what we find,” I said, looking at the dusty spines that surrounded us.

We spent a good deal of time looking for something on becoming an animagus, passing over books like Moste Potente Potions and Curses to Rid You of Your Enemies. Some of the books didn’t even have titles on their spines, but just looked like they contained evil within. James made the mistake of pulling one of these out and it tried to bite him before he managed to shove it back onto the shelf, bits of parchment fluttering from the book’s pages. Finally, Sirius pulled out a book entitled Releasing the Animagus Within and waved for James and I to join him kneeling upon the floor.

We opened the cover and flipped through the pages quickly to see there were step-by-step instructions, complete with illustrations, and a long section on the theory of animagi. “McGonagall would be pleased to see that,” I whispered.

Sirius said, “These instructions are murder.”

James was flipping slowly through the illustrated pages. “Yeah, they’re so tedious. Look at this. Holding a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a full month?! Who’s got the time for that?”

“It’s quite important,” I intoned, “Unless you wanna end up like Deborah the Duck-billed.”

James looked up at me funnily, “Who?”

“The witch with the platypus bill,” I said, as though he ought to know who it was, even though I myself had only just learned it a few weeks before during my chat with Professor McGonagall.

Sirius looked at the book and flipped through the pages himself, going backwards, the theory passing by us. He paused on a page headlined The Form of the Animagus. He asked, “If McGonagall’s right and it’s got something to do with your spirit animal and all that...what animal do you guys think you’ll take?”

James shook his head, “Bugger if I know.” I also shrugged.

“I think I’d be a lion,” Sirius replied, “Like Gryffindor house. I’m brave and I kind of lead you lot around and…”

“And to think they say you’re the modest one of the two of you,” I laughed.

Sirius said, “James, you’ll probably be some sort of bird, with how well you fly.”

James grinned, “Then I could fly without a broomstick! But that wouldn’t be very helpful for Remus if I was a bird. He could chomp me up like nothing. At least being a lion you’ll be right helpful.”

“Yeah, true,” Sirius said, then turned to me. “I feel like a dolphin could fit you, you’ve got a lot of energy.”

I shrugged, “That would be cool and all, because I could breathe underwater, but it would be a pain, confined to the Black Lake or something...what about Peter? What do you think he’ll be?”

Sirius thought for a moment, “Dunno,” he answered, “Maybe a pig.”

I laughed. “Well that’s no good either. I’m sure Remus is just as fond of bacon in his wolf form as he is in his human one.”

We gathered up the book, though, realising we’d been gone long enough and didn’t know how well Peter was doing at distracting Remus. We pulled the invisibility cloak over our heads and made our way back through the corridors toward Gryffindor Tower.

10th February, 1973

A notice went up early this morning. Gryffindor common room was crowded with people from every year bustling about before the notice board, jostling and fighting to see. “Now is when it would come in handy to be a bird,” James hissed to Sirius and I as we tried to get to the board.

The arrival of the Ilvermorny Quidditch Team will be heralded with a feast in the Great Hall on the first of April. In addition to the introduction to Ilvermorny’s team, the Hogwarts Quidditch Team players shall also be honoured at the feast. All current house team players are welcome to try out on the pitch on Saturday afternoon, at 18:00 sharp.

“There you are, you two,” said Sirius, excitedly clapping both of us on the back.

I grinned, “Excellent.” I turned to the boys, “I’m excited to meet the Americans, aren’t you? I wonder what they’re like.”

“They have funny accents, for one,” said Sirius.

I laughed.

Remus and Peter, who had waited outside of the cluster of students for us to tell them what the notice said, were standing by the portrait hole, ready to go down to breakfast. Lily joined us as we went down the corridor, discussing the news of the Ilvermorny team’s imminent arrival. I was surprised at how excited she was to meet the Ilvermorny students, as well. “It ought to be a lovely feast,” she said dreamily, “Dumbledore will wish to impress the American Minister for Magic.”

“He’s called a President in America,” Remus said.

We were still talking about the Americans when we reached the Great Hall. “I’ve heard Americans can be pretty rude,” said Peter nervously, “You don’t think they’ll be bullies, do you?” He looked about at us as we took our seats at the table.

Derek Bell leaned in, having overheard Peter’s worries, “I’ve been writing their captain all term… Jack Scout’s his name. He plays Keeper and he’s a good egg. Been playing Quidditch since he was a wee one. I don’t think you’ll be needing to worry about him bullying anybody.”

“See, Peter, you’re worrying for nothing,” said Sirius.

“It’s not for nothing,” Peter argued, “What if he has some Slytherins on his team?”

Bilius spoke up this time, “Ilvermorny houses are named differently, you dunderhead.”

“They are?” I looked up, interested.

“Of course,” Bilius replied, “Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff are only named as such because of the school’s founders. Ilvermorny’s are named after magical beasts. Horned Serpent, Wampus, Thunderbird, and Pukwudgie.”

Sirius made a face. “Oi, imagine being in Pukwudgie.”

“I’d rather not,” James answered.

Lily gave them a stern face, “Don’t you be judging them for their culture. The United States has a lot of funny names based on old Native American culture. I think it’s brilliant they carried that over to the magical community as well.”

“I do, too,” I said, nodding. It certainly gave a bit of flavour to the names.

“But still...Pukwudgie, mate,” James said, “There’s loads of magical creatures they could’ve used instead.”

Lily sighed, “You’re impossible, Potter,” she snapped. “You’re as bad as the Slytherins.”

That riled James up right quick, “Oi!” he shouted, looking deeply offended. Several Ravenclaws turned and raised eyebrows on the Gryffindor table when he yelled.

Lily shrugged, “I’m sorry, but if you’re going to act like a prat, that’s what you get.”

“Hey, I thought you didn’t think the Slytherins were all bad?” Sirius asked with a smirk. “What happened? Did ol’ Snivelly get under your skin?”

“Don’t call him that!” Lily snarled, turning on Sirius like a leopard in the jungle.

Quickly, Sirius tossed his hands up in surrender, “Merlin’s beard!” he exclaimed, eyes quite wide in surprise from the attack. “Note to self, don’t anger Evans!”

“I don’t know why you’re so defensive of him,” I said, looking over at the Slytherin table, where Severus Snape was talking with some of the bigger, meaner boys of the house, “He’s the one that’s a prat. A perfect example of a Slytherin.”

Lily stood up, clearly displeased, and left the table.

“Evans! Oi, come back,” Sirius called after her.

“Yeah!” James called, “Come back, we’ll stop telling the truth about Snivelly.”

Remus rolled his eyes at us as Lily’s back disappeared through the doors of the Great Hall. “Really, you all can be idiots,” he said. He picked up his egg sandwich and Lily’s and turned away, rushing after her.

I sighed, and went back to my meal.

***

Remus joined us in the boys’ dorm a few hours later. James and Sirius were jumping on James’ bed, taking it in turns to capture the snitch that James kept captive in his nightstand drawer while Peter played Wizard’s Chess against himself on the floor, and I relaxed on Sirius’ bed reading my Potions textbook. Remus cleared his throat and we all paused in what we were doing to look at him. The snitch eluded Sirius’ fingers and James snatched it quickly before it could get too far away.

“How’s Lily?” I asked. “Is she still angry?”

“She’s alright,” Remus said, “But you know, there’s a pretty simple solution to keep her from getting angry at you again…”

“If you’re going to say be friends with Severus Snape then you can save your breath,” James interrupted him, “Because that will never happen.”

Sirius high-fived him.

Remus sighed, “Well, all I know is Lily was crying about it.” He turned to his desk and started sorting through his textbooks.

“She was crying?” asked James, his voice edgy.

“Stupid girls,” muttered Peter, thinking this would impress James and Sirius. He held up his palm, seeking a high-five, too, but instead I threw a pillow at his face, making him topple over in surprise.

“What was she crying for?” James pressed.

Remus shrugged, “Perhaps the opinions of her friends matter to her.” James sat down on his bed, still clutching the snitch. I noticed that there was a hint of guiltiness in James’ eye.

“She’s a peacemaker, James,” Remus continued, “She just doesn’t want anybody to be fighting is all and you lot have a go at Snape rather frequently.”

“I s’pose,” muttered James.

“He usually asks for it,” said Sirius, defensively.

Peter added, “And he’s got a greasy head!”

I sighed, “Shut up, Peter,”

Peter frowned. “What? You lot say that all the time,” he complained. “Are we going to just stop making fun of Snivellus Snape, just because Evans has gone a bit weepy?”

Remus climbed up on his bed and opened his textbook up across his knees, his head propped up on the pillow. “I’m just saying, it wouldn’t hurt to get along with Evans better...especially as seeing that she’s going to be my Valentine.” He grinned into the book.

“What?!” Sirius exploded off James’ bed, springing over to land on top of Remus, knocking the book to the floor. “You asked Evans to be your Valentine?” He punched him playfully in the shoulders. “You dog! Or wolf, rather! Blimey, are you going to be snogging off in the common room now?”

Remus’ face reddened, even as he fended off Sirius’ boisterous punches off, “I’m not going to be snogging anyone…” he laughed. He gave Sirius a good heave, sending him sprawling off to the other end of the bed and scrambled up himself quickly, “At least not in public anyway.” He grinned, a twinkle in his eyes.

“You can’t have a Valentine as pretty as Lily Evans and not snog her,” I shrugged.

Peter’s watery eyes looked up at Remus hopefully, “And you can’t snog a girl like Lily and not tell the rest of us less fortunate ones about it.”

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “Peter, please, a good man doesn’t snog and tell. It’s not proper.”

“Like you’ve ever snogged a girl,” James snorted.

Sirius rounded ‘bout to look at him, “Course I have!”

“Who have you snogged then, pray tell?” James demanded, a smirk playing over his lips.

“That’s the point I’m trying to make, isn’t it?” Sirius said, “A man never snogs and tells!”

I grinned, “Or else a man’s never snogged and so there’s nothing to tell.”

James snickered and Remus smiled down at his book.


	30. 14th and 15th February, 1973

Okay, this chapter is pretty long, but Valentine's Day WHOOT WHOOT! I hope you all enjoy it!! 

14th February, 1973

“Well, aren’t you just a picture of sophistication!” Sirius was grinning from ear-to-ear as he lounged across his bed, his eyes twinkling with amusement at Remus.

Remus turned red and shook a too-long sleeve-covered finger at Sirius, “Don’t you dare make fun of me.”

Sirius’ eyes were still sparkling with all the evil things he wished to say, but he bit his tongue.

“Here, let me shorten your sleeves up a bit,” James suggested and he quickly performed a Shrinking Charm on them until they were at Remus’ wrists. “Still. Not much can be done about the pattern, I suppose.”

“What’s wrong with the pattern?” Remus asked, looking down at the brown plaid, flecked with bits of purpley-lavender. He sighed, “Oh Merlin, it’s hideous, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so,” I replied with a smirk.

Remus looked desperate. “Someone go and tell Lily I can’t go to tea with her because I’m a mess.”

For Valentine’s Day, it was announced in the morning that there would be an afternoon tea for the school’s couples in the Great Hall. Notes had been passed by gnomes, bewitched to fly about the school as little ugly cupids, inviting people to the tea. It was that tea to which Remus was taking Lily: his Valentine. I had a fleeting thought about asking Sirius to the tea so I could keep an eye on them, but I thought better of it, as I wouldn’t want him to think I fancied him.

Besides, I had better things to worry about besides teas and Valentine’s Day gnomes. It’s Wednesday. Wednesday was Quidditch Practice day...the last one before the tourney tryouts, too, and James and I were eager to get onto the pitch one more time. Which is why we were devastated to find Derek cancelled the practice. “How could you?” James demanded, seeing the notice early this morning, finding Derek in the chair by the fire, flipping through a dusty old book by Shakepeare.

“There are more important things in life than Quidditch,” Derek declared absently.

“More important than...Bell do you hear yourself?” I came over, quite surprised. “Are you ill or something? I thought you’d keel over before saying something like that.”

Derek only smiled, “Trust me, you two. You’ll understand one day.” He winked.

Remus seemed to be thinking more along the same lines as Derek. As soon as he’d heard about the tea, and Lily had said yes, she’s like to go with him to it, Remus had written home to his dad and told him all about it and Lyall Lupin had sent back the suit. The Suit was the supposedly quite-in-fashion-at-the-time Muggle three piecer that he’d worn when he met Remus’ mum, way back in the day. Remus told me that it was a time he always thought of as being in black and white, like the old-fashioned telly shows were.

“You’re going, Remus, don’t be barmy,” Sirius said.

“But this suit is awful,” Remus said.

“Yes,” I snickered. “It certainly is.”

“Perhaps the pattern will make her go blind and she won’t be able to see it after the first couple of seconds,” suggested Peter.

Remus smacked his palms to his face, “Oi. No. I can’t do this.”

James was still doing up Remus’ tie for him. “Sure you can.” He pushed Remus’ hands out of his face. “You don’t look that awful, anyway. I mean, sure, a bit outdated, and it’s Muggle clothes, so...it’s not exactly a sharp set of dress robes but...but...I mean...it’s got a great, er…” He took a step back and stared Remus up and down, trying to think of something good to say about The Suit. Several long moments passed.

“You can’t even make something up?” Remus asked, hopeless.

“Well, it’s got pockets!” James said, shrugging.

“Like James said, it’s not that awful, Re. I’d be more worried about the snogging than the suit.” I said.

Remus shook his head, “I already told you,” he said, turning a bit red around the neck, “I’m not going to be snogging her, in public.”

“Well there’s loads of private places to go,” Sirius pointed out. “You want James’ invisibility cloak? You two can sneak off and snog just about any place with that.”

James glared at Sirius and backed off, finished fixing Remus’ tie. “There will be no snogging beneath the invisibility cloak.”

“As if you won’t use it for snogging one day!” I scoffed.

“I won’t,” said James, “I swear it. The cloak should be sacred, kept clean from such things as snogging. I mean, what if she’s a real sloppy kisser and you end up with spittle all over the cloak?” He made a face. “It just won’t do. No, the cloak is for us...for mischief and adventure.”

“You should have to take an oath or something,” I said. I looked about and saw the parchment of the map we’d been working on of the castle. “Here. Put your hand on here. This is a sacred document, you realise, a symbol of all our friendships.” I grinned and snatched James’ palm and pressed it onto the parchment. “Now. Repeat after me. I, James Potter…”

“I, James Potter…”

“...do so solemnly swear…” James echoed.

“...that I will never snog or otherwise engage with anybody else beneath the invisibility cloak.”

Peter’s voice echoed from the floor, “Or otherwise engage with? What’s that supposed to mean?” he looked around at us.

Sirius wiggled his eyebrows. “You know.”

Peter looked utterly lost.

“Well, if you don’t know, then we shouldn’t be the ones to explain it, either,” I said, turning back to James. “You know, though, yeah?

“Of course I do,” James rolled his eyes, then repeated what I had said, “That I will never snog or otherwise engage with anybody beneath the invisibility cloak.” He punched me in the shoulder, “There. Are you happy?”

I grinned, “Happier than I was just a moment ago. And don’t think we won’t figure it out one day if you’ve done it.”

Remus cleared his throat. We turned to look at him. “I’m pretty sure you lot are supposed to be helping me? Hello? Werewolf on a date over here?” 

“We’ve done helped you, Re,” said Sirius, “There ain’t much else we can do. The Suit is awful but I’m afraid we’ve reached the limits.”

Remus took a deep breath, “Alright, then.”

And so Remus declared we back away as he took the first step out the dorm and to the lovely girl waiting for his hand to walk her down to the Valentine’s Tea.

***

The afternoon tea must’ve gone much later than planned, because it was well after sunset when Remus came back into the boys’ dormitory. We must’ve looked suspicious, all gathered around the book of animagi on James’ bed. He looked shocked, “You’re...you’re studying?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said James. “For, uh, Transfiguration.”

“How was your date?” Sirius asked eagerly.

“It was good,” Remus answered.

“Did you kiss her?” I asked.

Remus smiled. “A man never snogs and tells,” he replied.

Sirius’ grin was wide. “You dog.”

15th February, 1973

Sirius was sitting on the floor with five potion ingredient kits open around him in the boys’ dormitory, counting out dead lacewing flies. “Twenty-one,” he said. “It was twenty-one, wasn’t it?” He looked up at James and I who were sitting on James’ bed, looking over the page labelled the Draught of Change in Releasing the Animagus Within.

“Yes,” James said, “Twenty-one.”

Sirius held up the cup. “There we are, then.” He stood up and put the cup on the desk next to the other cups and bags that we’d already fielded from our kits. “That’s the last of what we’ve got already, then,” he said, turning around. “What is it we need to knick, then?”

I grabbed the book. “Powdered bicorn horn, fluxweed, and shredded boomslang skin,” I read.

Sirius nodded, “Well, that’s not as much as I thought we might have to knick.”

“We’ve got to figure out where to brew this lot, too. Can’t exactly set it up in the common room,” I pointed out.

“Yeah. Well.” Sirius frowned, “We’ll cross that bridge once we get all the ingredients, I s’pose.”

“Maybe in the Trophy Room tunnel?” James offered.

“Brilliant!” Sirius and I said in unison, before staring at each other, giggling.

“We’ll just have to keep Remus out of the tunnel for the month.” I said.

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” Sirius shrugged.

The dormitory door opened and Peter slouched through, carrying a bag of food from the kitchens. It was quite late. Remus was off in the Shrieking Shack, giving us time to begin planning. James, Sirius and I had excitedly begun making lists and schedules and Peter had gone to get the snacks to keep us all energised while we worked. “I got sandwiches,” he announced, “And butterbeer and hard-boiled eggs and chocolate biscuits.”

I followed Peter over to the desk, where he was unloading the food he’d gotten. I grabbed a bottle of butterbeer, and tossed one each to Sirius and James as well. “Good job, Pete,” I said happily, taking a long swig from the butterbeer. “Ah, this is perfection.”

“Did you lot figure out what we need from Slughorn’s store?” Peter asked, looking over the assorted ingredients that Sirius had stacked on one of the other desks. He made a face as the sight of the plateful of dead leeches.

“Sure did,” James said.

Peter held out a sandwich and passed it to Sirius. “And we go tonight?” he asked.

“Of course,” said Sirius, swallowing the bite of sandwich with an almighty gulp. “Otherwise Remus will be asking questions about what we’re up to and it’ll blow the surprise. We gotta get this started while he’s out in the shack so he doesn’t get suspicious.”

“Yeah,” I said, tearing the crusts off my sandwich, “All we need to do is figure out how to keep him out of the Trophy Room passage for a month while the Draught of Change brews.”

Peter snorted, “Well that’ll be a hard job, won’t it?” he shook his head.

Sirius looked concerned, turning to Peter, “Why would it be hard? Remus doesn’t go down there without us.”

“Course he does,” Peter said, “He brought Evans down there not even a month ago...remember?”

“Bloody hell,” Sirius looked at James and I, “He’s right.”

“So what do we do?” I asked.

“Maybe we should get Evans in on this,” said Peter.

Sirius made a face, “Of course we can’t let Evans in on it! She’ll go off to Dumbledore or something of the like and that’ll end it right there, won’t it? Evans is far too much of a goody-two-shoes to help us out with this.” Sirius frowned. “What do we do?”

James sighed, “Maybe we should use one of the other passageways from the list that we haven’t really explored yet...Remus won’t go exploring without us.”

I took a deep breath, “Maybe...maybe.”

Peter nibbled his sandwich.

“Either way,” Sirius said after a few moments, “Whether we know where we’re brewing yet or not, we need to get down to Slughorn’s store and get the bicorn, fluxweed, and boomslang before it’s morning and everyone’s up.”

James got up and took the invisibility cloak out of his trunk.

Twenty minutes later, the four of us had snuck through the castle under the cloak and arrived in the Entrance Hall of the castle. We were headed for the stairs into the dungeons when there came echoing footsteps below and we moved quickly out of the way, only just in time as Severus Snape came sweeping through the stone doorway. Snape’s cloak hung off his arms like he was some sort of bat in the night emerging from a cave. I watched with narrowed eyes as Snape climbed the stairs two at a time, looking each way carefully at the top, searching for any signs of Mrs. Norris. Seeing none, he disappeared into the darkness that filled the Second Floor.

“What the bloody hell is he up to?” James murmured as soon as Snape was out of earshot and he felt it safe to speak again.

“Who knows with that dunderhead?” Sirius said, “Could be anything…”

“Maybe we should follow him,” I hissed, already half-turned.

Sirius shook his head, catching me by the arm before I could go after him. “We need to get the stuff for the potion so we can get started. We can follow Snivelly around the castle some other time.”

I sighed, knowing Sirius was right, and I followed the boys’ lead down into the dungeons corridor. It was dark and dreary and we followed the wall until we came to the steps that led up to Professor Slughorn’s storeroom. I glanced at the bathroom where, last year, we’d seen the horrible reflection of the Dark Lord. I shivered at the thought of the bleak, hatred-laced man that had filled the wall-sized mirror of the bathroom.

“Alohamora,” Sirius whispered, aiming his wand at the handle of Slughorn’s store. But nothing happened. He looked at us.

“Must be locked tighter than the alohamora can handle,” I whispered. I paused, then, “Dissolvo,” I whispered. The lock melted.

Sirius looked at me, “Brilliant.”

“Because Slughorn won’t notice that his lock is melted?” Peter hissed.

“Oh I’m sure he’ll notice it’s melted,” said James, “But that doesn’t mean we’re going to get caught for it. After all...we already know we aren’t the only ones up and about the castle tonight.” He shrugged and followed Sirius and who, as we were stepping into the dark, narrow little space.

The storeroom was lined with shelves with various bottles, boxes, bags, and binders. There were creepy things floating in coloured water, sealed with oozy wax, and great bushes of plants tied upside-down and hanging from the higher shelves. In the ceiling rafters hung knots of silvery hair and there was even a great horn of some sort balanced on the top shelf of the furthest case. Our eyes were quite wide as we looked around.

“Blimey,” hissed Sirius.

James pointed, “Unicorn hair,” he whispered, awed, staring up at the silvery hair. “Incredible.”

Peter looked into a jar filled with salamander tongues which floated about in a blue solution. “Guys, I don’t like it in here. Let’s just get what we need and get out of here...before Filch or somebody catches us in here. Please.”

I rolled my eyes, but in all honesty I didn’t like it much more than Peter. James had meanwhile found the boomslang skin. It was a nasty-looking pile of nearly translucent paper-like skin that had been shredded from who knows what. Peter’s eyes were wide as ever as Sirius pulled the bag of skin from the shelf and handed it to James.

“Here’s the fluxweed,” I said, reaching for a small bushel on a higher shelf. “Anyone see the powdered bicorn horn?”

Peter pointed a shaky hand to the great big horn on the top shelf. “Is that what the horn is? Just...not powdered yet?”

I looked up at the horn too. “I bloody hope not.”

“How are we supposed to get that thing back to the tower without being caught if it is?” James asked.

Sirius squinted up at it. “I can’t see the label.” Quickly, he started climbing the shelves like he would a tree.

“Oh do be careful,” Peter whimpered.

“I’m always careful,” Sirius said, “I’ve climbed up trees taller than this a hundred times and I’ve never…”

But we wouldn’t hear what Sirius had never done. For he reached the top shelf and there was a great creaking sound and the shelf which his foot stood upon snapped in half, sending jars of goop and goo and eyeballs and tongues and stones falling to the floor and spilling over our heads. Broken glass shattered on the stone floor, the racket unbelievable as that shelf broke the next shelf and the next and the next all the way down the entire wall. Sirius clung to the top shelf, hanging there, legs flailing.

Peter was yelling loudly, panicking as single bat wings fluttered about in the air, disconnected from any body, just the wings themselves. He had some sort of green slimy stuff oozing over his blond hair and squashy face and he was crying as he wailed.

“Shut up!” James snapped, reaching out a hand and covering Peter’s mouth with his palm.

I looked up, “Sirius, hurry up, get down, we’ve gotta get out of here. Filch is surely on his way. The whole castle’s probably heard that.”

Sirius desperately grabbed hold on the whole bicorn horn on the top shelf and took a deep breath, letting himself fall back to the floor. His trainers crunched over the broken glass and squashed over the spilled potion ingredients. James quickly threw the cloak over our heads, though the horn was so large that our ankles showed as we ran out of the storeroom and down the corridor toward the stairs. We could hear echoing voices in the Entrance Hall and come from behind, too, where the Slytherin common room was. They’d probably all heard the racket, too.

“This way,” hissed James, and he led us past the stairs and into the even darker parts of the dungeons, through twisting halls that led us this way and that was in the dark. Eventually, there weren’t even torches on the walls, but there hadn’t been any places to hide yet, either. I pulled out my wand. “Lumos,” I commanded it and we continued running along. The walls were growing mossy as we continued on...this was a very old and very abandoned part of the castle indeed...and we finally turned a corner and found ourselves standing at the shores of a little outcrop of the lake that came in beneath the castle.

“This is where the little boats we rode with Hagrid took us in first year!” exclaimed Sirius. He looked about, then pointed, “Those stairs go up to the Entrance Hall there. Remember? McGonagall came and collected us.”

We ran around the edge of the water, being very careful not to fall in...I even held onto Peter’s robes, just in case his clumsy tendencies caused him to trip. We reached the stairs and ran up them. At the top was a wooden door. James pressed his ear to it, hoping to hear if there was anyone in the Entrance Hall or if everyone who had responded to the noise we’d made was already in the dungeons inspecting Slughorn’s storeroom. I hope the latter was the case, because James whispered that he couldn’t hear a thing through the door. He yanked it open and we rushed through, closing it behind us.

The Entrance Hall was empty, save for Mrs. Norris, who flicked her tail and looked about at the sound of our scuffling feet, her eyes glowing like lamps in the dark. We held very still for a moment, slouched down so our trainers didn’t show beneath the cloak, waiting, watching as the cast twitched. Finally, she let go with a huge kitty-yawn and sat down to clean herself, licking her paws.

James looked ‘round at us. “Carefully,” he breathed. And we inched slowly toward the stairs that led up into the castle. I kept an eye on Mrs. Norris, who was now licking the fur on her back haunches, preening. We reached the steps and took the first stair. No reaction from Mrs. Norris still. The second step...third...the fourth step creaked and the cat’s ears flicked to attention. “Bloody hell, run for it.”

Sirius didn’t have to say it twice. The four of us started running up the stairs as Mrs. Norris let out a yowl. We darted ‘round the corner at the top and headed for the moving staircase.

“We’ll never make it all the way up before they catch up,” I panted.

“Go for the third floor entrance to the Trophy Room passageway,” Sirius answered.

We turned down the third floor corridor, sure that Filch or someone else was coming behind us. Peter was sobbing once more. I grabbed his forearm and dragged him along as Peter started to slow down from crying and his chubby legs aching. We reached the portrait that blocked the entrance and Sirius hastened to open it, ducking out from beneath the cloak to get ahead, still carrying the bicorn horn. We rushed through and Sirius quickly joined us, pulling it shut behind him.

The moment the portrait door shut, he turned around and slumped onto the floor in relief, the horn laying across his lap. Peter, James and I were already on the floor in a great pile on our backs, gasping for breath. Peter was shaking.

“Well then,” Was all I had to say with a stupid grin from all the endorphins.

“Wasn’t that an adventure!” said Sirius, his face aglow from the rush of adrenaline.

“Oh yes, a real bloody treat!” Peter choked sarcastically.

James simply laughed.

***

We’d made our way back to the sixth floor via the passageway, Sirius still carrying that blasted bicorn horn. “It’s heavier than it looks,” he complained for about the hundredth time as we neared the back of Scrimgeour’s portrait in the Trophy Room.

“Well, don’t go getting too tired, we’ve got to figure out where the bloody hell we’re hiding the thing,” I said, “Is isn’t as if we can go trooping through the common room with it!” I pushed the portrait open and we stepped out into the Trophy Room, which was doused in pale blue moonlight. The portrait frame was empty, as usual. I went to the door and pushed it open, peeking each way down the hall before ducking back in. “Alright, I don’t see anyone around out there. Where should we go?”

Sirius put the horn down to give his arms a rest. “I dunno. Where do you lot think?”

“I think we should hide it in one of the passageways we haven’t explored yet,” James said, “Like we thought of earlier.”

Peter nodded in agreement.

“Alright,” said Sirius, “Get out the list, then.”

“I don’t have the list. I thought one of you had it,” James said.

“I certainly don’t have it, either. Sabrina?” Sirius asked.

“Why would I have it?” I demanded.

James retorted, “Because you’re the ruddy brains of this operation.”

“So you want me to be in charge of everything?” I snapped.

James frowned, “Well, I mean, if you’ve got the vision you’ve got the job, yeah?”

Peter held up his palms, stepping between us. “Does anybody have the bloody list?” he asked.

“I already said I don’t,” Sirius said.

“And we’ve made it clear I don’t either.” I snapped.

James sighed, “Remus’ probably got it with the map.”

“Okay, so. No list. What do we do with the horn?” Peter asked, being diplomatic for once in his life.

James rubbed his forehead, “I think there was one someplace on the seventh floor.”

“Some place on the seventh floor?” Peter asked, looking uncertain.

James shrugged, “At least I remembered that much.”

Sirius suggested, “Why don’t one of us go get the list from the dormitory?” Three of us looked at Peter.

“Oh,” groaned Peter, “Why’s it always got to be me?”

“Because we took a vote and you lost,” I replied.

Peter sighed. “You three can’t agree on a bloody thing for ten minutes of conversation straight and the instant it’s a matter of who’s going off on a chore and you’re the pictures of peace.” He rolled his eyes.

“We’ll go up to the seventh floor and have a look about, see if we can’t find it without the list. Meet us up there by Barnabus the Barmy...you know, that painting with the ballet dancing trolls?” Sirius said, “We’ll take the invisibility cloak, seeing as we’ve got this blasted horn. So you be careful going that you don’t get caught...though you’ll only have a little ways further to go from the seventh floor.”

Peter looked nervous. “Alright.”

We ducked back beneath the invisibility cloak with the horn and climbed a flight of stairs to the seventh floor, where we turned a corner from the stairwell and Peter scurried out from under the cloak. “Remember,” whispered Sirius, “Barnabus the Barmy.”

Peter nodded and hurried away.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Sirius said, turning back to James and I.

It proved much easier to look without the invisibility cloak on, so we swaddled the bicorn horn in the cloak and Sirius carried the invisible horn about as we moved quickly down the hallway. James was muttering to himself, trying to figure out where it was the list had said there was a passageway. Sirius and I followed along behind him, the former looking rather odd with his arms wrapped around what appeared to be empty air, and pausing now and then to poke about if he suspected something to look a bit as though it could be a door to a secret passageway.

We were all getting frustrated as time wore on. Sirius was tired from carrying the horn and had sat down on the floor before the painting of the ballet-dancing trolls, waiting for Peter, while James paced, muttering to himself. “I know there was something on that list here,” he was saying. “It was here, I know it was.”

“Peter will be back in a moment with the list and then we’ll find it,” Sirius said, as I sat down next to him.

“What if Peter got caught trying to get to the tower?” James asked.

“Then McGonagall or Filch or whoever caught him would probably be here looking for us,” I said, “You know Peter would rat us out if he was under pressure. He’ll be along, he’s probably just looking for the list. You know Remus hides the map under his mattress when he goes out to the Shrieking Shack.”

“One of us should’ve gone to the dorms to get the list,” muttered James, shaking his head. He sighed, “Bloody hell...we just need a place to get the potion started is all,” he said, running his hand through his hair as he turned on his heel. “Any place would do, just a place that’s safe from prying eyes and we can brew it without Remus finding out too soon.”

“We know, mate,” Sirius said, “But pacing’s not going to help any and you’re making me nervous.”

“Well I’m nervous too,” answered James, turning, “What if we don’t find the place we need? What then? We need a place to hide that horn and…”

Suddenly Sirius and I sat up. “What the…” I mumbled.

“What?” James turned, following our eyes.

On the wall, a ribbon of gold light had cut its way across the wallpaper, scrolling and swirling - bright and shining.

James hurried to our side with an excited expression. Sirius clutched the bicorn horn even tighter. “Draw your wands,” Sirius hissed, not wanting to be unarmed, but also not wanting to drop the horn.

“Right,” I said, and James and I reached for our wands.

We stood, watching as the little spark of light wove its way about the intricate pattern, slowly outlining the shape of a door...a glowing golden handle seemed to melt in reverse...appearing out of the wall. The door seemed to glow for several seconds, and then slowly the light faded and we stood, staring at a regular door.

None of us dared to move. We waited, expecting something to come out of that door. My stomach coiled and knotted. Part of me expected something terrible to come out of the door...Voldemort, or his Death Eaters, perhaps. I asked in a low whisper, “Was this door on the list?”

“Oh blimey, no,” breathed James, shaking his head, “I’d have remembered ‘big shiny secret door’.”

“Where did it come from?” Sirius wondered.

“Dunno,” whispered James.

We stood there, waiting for something to happen. And then there were voices down the hall and Sirius panicked. He ran forward and grabbed the handle of the door and yanked it open. “What’re you doing?!” James choked, “There could be anything in there, there could be…”

“Stop being Peter and get in here!” Sirius snapped, “Before you both get caught.”

James and I leaped forward into the room and we slammed the door shut.


	31. 16th February, 1973

I had barely been asleep for more than two minutes when a sharp rapping came from the door. Lily was already dressed and was about to leave for breakfast anyway, so she decided to open the door. “Severus?” I looked up at the sound of Lily’s voice, and saw that both Professor McGonagall and Severus Snape were in the doorway. “What’re you doing here?” Lily asked.

Severus opened his mouth to reply, but McGonagall cut him off before he could get so much as a single word out, “It is none of your concern, Miss Evans. You can talk to Mister Snape in the Great Hall at breakfast. I’m afraid I need a word with Miss Stratford here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lily said, and she hurried out, averting her eyes from Snape.

I subsequently got out of bed, and gave an involuntary yawn. “Um, how can I help you Professor? And...you, what’re you doing here?” I said, rather accusatory at Snape. I knew he was up to no good last night. 

McGonagall looked down at Severus.

“The horn,” Severus stammered. “Black must’ve given the horn to her, thinking it could be more safe or something. Look for it in there, you’ll find it. Then you’ll know…”

“Miss Stratford,” McGonagall said, voice clipped, “Are you hiding any giant horns in your dormitory?”

I blinked several times, “Giant horns? What? No.”

“Of course she’s going to say no!” Snape snapped, angrily. “But I saw Black last night, and you must’ve been with him. Down on the third floor...with a great big horn! You were invisible and…”

I rolled my eyes, “If I was invisible, then how did you see me?”

“Enough.” McGonagall’s scottish accent was particularly sharp. “Miss Stratford, do you mind if we look in the dormitory for any great big horns you may have laying about?”

I eagerly backed away, opening the door wide for her to enter, “Sure,” I said, “Go on!” I made sure to have a big grin on my face and a twinkle in my eye just to piss Snape off further. He was fuming, truly boiling with anger long before Professor McGonagall requested he come right this way, back to her office.

***

“There’s some justice to the fact that ol’ Snivelly got the blame for the mess in the storeroom,” Sirius said in a low voice to James, Peter and I, when word had got around that Snape had been caught stealing from Slughorn’s stores. “A poetic sort of justice. He got off for Voldemort’s mirror last term and now we’ve gotten off for Slughorn’s store. Serves him right, being a prat.”

Severus was glowering at us from across the Great Hall, in his seat at the Slytherin table. Rumour had it that he’d been given detentions for a week: cleaning up the potions room each evening and helping Slughorn with whatever little jobs he may have need of doing. Nobody particularly enjoyed spending time with Horace Slughorn. He was a great, rambling old man with a bulging belly and a hunger for knowing all the right people. He could be quite condescending and there was a general feeling of not being good enough for him unless you had a famous parent. I couldn’t imagine doing one full session of detention with the man, not to mention a whole week’s worth of them.

Remus had come back in time for lunch this afternoon and heard all the rumours pinging about the castle. “What would anybody want with a bicorn horn anyway?” he asked, confused, crinkling up his nose at the news. So far, the bicorn horn was the only thing that had be noticed for missing from the storeroom. Apparently Professor Slughorn’s inventory skills were not precise enough to notice the missing sheets of boomslang skin or the bushel of fluxweed.

“It’s an ingredient in Skele-gro,” said Frank Longbottom knowledgeably from down the table.

Bilius grinned, “Perhaps Snape’s a part of a black market for Skele-gro sales!”

“Is there a black market for Skele-gro sales?” Andy Tinnamin asked with raised eyebrows.

Bilius shrugged, “What the bloody hell else would anybody want with a ruddy bicorn horn?”

“Seems it was an ingredient in some potion Slughorn had told us about,” Derek mused.

“Was it?” Bilius asked, “What potion?”

“Dunno,” Derek shrugged,” There’s a reason I’m sweating the N.E.W.T. for Potions, isn’t there?”

Remus mused, “odd.” He looked at the four of us, “What do you lot reckon he wanted the bicorn horn for?”

Peter turned the same colour as the Hogwarts Express.

“What would we know about it?” Sirius demanded. “Snivellus isn’t our friend.”

“Yeah, perhaps you ought to ask Evans what Snape’s up to, since she’s mates with him and all,” James said.

“Ask Evans what?” James and Sirius, who were both back-to, turned around to find Lily standing behind them, her hands on her hips. “Ask Evans what?” she repeated.

My lips quirked in amusement and I lifted a carrot stick off my plate, biting into it with a rather loud crunch. Remus snickered a little bit.

“Remus was wondering what Snivellus Snape is interested in a bicorn horn for?” Sirius replied smoothly, “And James here thought you’d be the one to ask, seeing as you’re friends with the bloke.”

Lily snorted, then turned to walk ‘round the table to the empty seat on the other side of Remus.

Sirius looked at James, then turned back to Lily. “What’s that about then?”

“What’s what about?” Lily asked, reaching for a bowl of soup.

“That...the snort,” James said.

“Nothing...it’s nothing,” Lily answered. But we were still looking at her with confusion, so she sighed and put her spoon down before having even gotten a single bite of food. “It’s just that I tried to go talk to him, to find out what was going on, and he didn’t want to talk to me. He never wants to talk to me when it’s convenient. Only when it’s convenient for him, of course, and bloody hell if it’s important to me. Oh but if it’s important to him then...oh ho! The world best stop turning for him.” Lily’s voice was laced with annoyed passion.

I looked at Remus uneasily as though to apologise for Lily caring about Snape enough to give a damn whether he made the time to speak to her or not. Remus just shrugged.

“So what’s he want the bicorn horn for, then?” James asked.

“Damned if I know!” Lily replied. “What’s it even used for?”

“Black market trading,” said Bilius, leaning over conspiratorially.

“Black market...what?” Lily looked confused.

I laughed, “Ignore him, he’s being mad.”

***

After lunch, and a long winded (and highly fictitious) account of the current Skele-gro black market sale trends from Bilius, the boys and I were nearly back to the tower when Remus told us that he was tired and needed to get some rest in the dorm. James nodded solemnly. “Yeah, that’s quite alright, I think we were planning to visit the library, anyway. Yeah, Sirius?”

“I think so,” he agreed. “Sabrina?”

I nodded, “Sounds about right. Peter?”

“What are you going to the library for?” Peter asked, confused.

“You know...library stuff?” I said pointedly, flicking Peter in the shoulder.

Peter’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Ohhhh,” he said, nodding eagerly, “Right. Library stuff, yeah!”

Remus stared at us hard as we all grinned as innocent as hyenas. Luckily, his stare was broken by a sudden yawn. As he stretched, the arms of his robes rolled down and I could see the fresh bruises and scratches on his forearms. “You lot are lucky I’m exhausted and don’t feel like investigating what you’re really up to,” he said through the yawn. He looked us over carefully, suddenly suspicious. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Severus Snape and the bicorn horn, does it?” 

Sirius looked aghast. “What? What in the world would us going to the library have to do with Snivellus and some horn thing?”

Remus shrugged, “Dunno. Just that you’re all being awfully dodgy and Snape was glaring over at the table from Slytherin and…” he stopped and shook his head, “You know what? I don’t want to know. If you’ve done something, I don’t even want to know.”

“Done something?” I echoed, “What do you think we are? A bunch of animals?”

“Not yet, anyway,” muttered James. Sirius, who overheard, let out a loud guffaw that echoed in the corridor.

Remus looked between the four of us. “Alright. You lot go do whatever things you aren’t doing in the library,” he said, and he waved us off, heading down the last stretch of hall to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

We waited until Remus had disappeared through the portrait hole before turning back and heading for the seventh floor as quickly as we could. “So tell me about this room again?” Peter asked, breathless as we hurried along.

“It’s ruddy perfect,” James said excitedly, “It’s got everything we could possibly need.”

“I expect it used to be the Potions classroom at one point,” I added, “Maybe whoever taught it before Slughorn preferred this room to the dungeons. But James is right, it has everything we could possibly have asked for.”

We reached Barnabus the Barmy and stood, catching our breath for a moment. Luckily the hall was empty so there were no prying eyes about, other than the portraits that lined the hall. When our heart rates had about turned to normal, James went up to the wall where the door had appeared and reached out a hand for where the handle had been, waving his palm about. He, Sirius and I had agreed that the door must have simply been invisible and perhaps the rising sun out the window had caused the effect of the gold light or something somehow, but there was no handle on the wall. He looked ‘round at Sirius and I.

We came over and began to feel the wall, too. My fingertips ran across the wallpaper in assessment. “It was here,” Sirius said, screwing his face up with confusion. “It was. Wasn’t it?”

James nodded, “Yeah, mate. You were sitting by Barnabus the Barmy. We were waiting for Peter to come back with the list and I was pacing, making you nervous, remember?”

I frowned.

Peter looked at us, waiting expectantly to see this wonderful room that sounded far too good to be true. “Did you say a password, perhaps?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, looking to James and Sirius. “James, you were whining that we needed a place to hide the horn, and Sirius was telling him to stop pacing.”

We spent the next ten minutes saying random words to the wall. Peter sat himself down beneath the portrait of Barnabus the Barmy and watched as we knocked and muttered various phrases at the wall. Finally James, too, gave up, sinking heavily onto the floor and holding his head in his hands, defeated. Peter reached over and patted James’ shoulder dutifully. “It’s alright,” he said.

“It isn’t alright,” James replied, “If we can’t get in, then we’ve lost the horn and the boomslang and the fluxweed and we won’t be able to make the draught and we won’t be able to become animagi.”

“Alright. So Sabrina and I were sitting there, where you two are, with the horn and James, you were pacing…” Sirius started pacing, reenacting the scene. “And we were waiting for Peter, trying to remember the list, in case he didn’t come back…”

“I really looked,” Peter injected quickly, “I didn’t know Remus hid it under his mattress. I looked everywhere else.”

James nodded, “As we saw with all the overturned trunks. Under the mattress was the only place you didn’t look in the whole dorm!”

Sirius was still pacing, muttering to himself as he walked, “...saying we needed a place to hide, and I was cranky about the pacing...making me nervous…’but we need a place to brew the potion’, you said...and I said we were going to get caught…’any place will do, we just need someplace that Remus won’t find…”

I leaped up, “You’ve done it.” I was pointing at the wall, eyes wide, jumping in place, “Look, you’ve done it.”

Sirius turned ‘round as Peter scrambled to his feet and the four of us stood there in the hallway facing the shivering line of gold, weaving and moving its way through the pattern on the paperwork, seeming to be cutting the wall. “We must have to describe the room?” Sirius wondered, unsure even now what he’d done.

“Dunno,” James replied, “But we’ll figure it out.”

As soon as the door had fully appeared, we rushed to get inside, afraid that now would be the time somebody would come down the corridor. Peter was amazed to find, once inside that we hadn’t exaggerated in the least. The room was everything we could possibly have wanted for our little project. There was a counter set with an artificial flame and cauldrons with copper and silver and brass and gold bottoms and shelves of books and little knives and spoons and basic ingredients in a little pantry. And there on the counter was the bicorn horn we’d stolen from the Potion Master’s store and the bag of boomslang skin and the bushel of fluxweed.

James was unloading the other ingredients we’d counted out of our own potions kits and putting the little cups and bags onto the counter from within his bookbag as I withdrew Releasing the Animagus Within from deep in my robe pockets, opening it to the page on the Draught of Change. “Here we are,” I said, balancing it against a couple other books on the little counter. Sirius quickly gathered four stools from the other side of the counter, pushing them to cluster about the artificial flame. “C’mon, Pete,” he said, waving him over.

Peter nodded, scurrying to climb up onto the stool alongside us as James pulled a copper-bottom cauldron over and balanced it over the flame as I turned it on to get the pot heating up. “We’re really going to do this, then?” Peter asked, voice trembling just a bit “Become animagi?”

“Of course,” James answered, pulling the lids off the jars and opening the seal on the bags that we’d brought along.

I grinned, “Don’t be so nervous, Peter. Sometimes, you have to take risks to do the things you want to do in life. Living is worth the risk, mate. You can’t always be so careful.”

Peter nodded. “But what if bad things happen?”

“Bad things happen whether you take a risk or not,” Sirius said.

I added, “Sometimes, you gotta follow your heart, even if it tells you to do something stupid.”


	32. 17th February, 1973

Derek Bell came out onto the pitch at exactly 18:00. He strode across the grass in his full Gryffindor uniform, the Quidditch set under one arm, his broomstick over his shoulder. On the pitch was gathered a sampling of the four teams, each dressed in our own team robes, holding our own brooms, and waiting expectantly. Nerves were running high.

“Alright you lot,” Derek said, walking before us all, “We’re picking for players who’ll represent Hogwarts in the tourney against Ilvermorny. This isn’t an ordinary game, it’s an international challenge. We don’t just win the glory of getting to say that we’ve won but we win the ability to show the entire world what Hogwarts students are made of.”

“Atoms,” said a Ravenclaw, “We’re made of atoms.”

Derek looked uncertain how to respond, finally settling on, “Right, yeah. Atoms. And also guts and bravery and good hearts and brains. We’re stronger united than we are apart. That’s why I want to be sure that each house is represented. I’m going to try very hard to be objective and a good captain.” His eyes flickered to where us Gryffindors stood. “Unfortunately for you lot that means you’ll have to be trying extra hard as I’m not playing favourites at all.”

A general smattering of applause ripped over us all.

“That’s just what he’s got to say before putting the whole Gryffindor team up for the all stars,” James whispered cheekily to me as we clapped and started heading off to our starting positions. “Sort of a disclaimer so none of the sore sports can claim he didn’t do his best to balance it out. You and I are shoo-ins for places on the team.”

“I dunno,” I said nervously, “I’ve heard there’s a spectacular Chaser on Ravenclaw, and there’s only three spots for Chasers...Derek’s one, so there’s actually only two open.”

James shrugged, not phased at all. It seemed like to him it was impossible for the two of us to not be on the tourney team. 

There were quite a few really great players on the pitch, though and things were getting quite competitive. Derek had given each of us the instructions to wear our uniforms so that we were numbered, and if he shouted out the number a certain player was wearing, that player was out of the running and would have to go and sit down in the stands. I prayed, hoping to never hear numbers 24 or 16.

It was about three-quarters through, however, when my heart sank.

“Numbers 24, 5, and 11: you’re out.”

I landed on the grass of the pitch, along with the other two that had been named out: Jacob Woodhouse and the Ravenclaw Seeker. I headed up to the stands, and squished myself in between Remus and Sirius. “Sorry you didn’t get on the team,” Sirius said as I settled in.

“Thanks,” I answered, unable to hide the quiver in my voice.

“Are you alright?” Remus asked. He held up some water that he’d brought along from the castle and I gratefully drank. “You did wonderful.”

I smiled, “Thanks,” I answered. “I just wish I’d outlasted James, at least,” I said with a sigh.

“Well, James is going to make the team,” Sirius answered, “He just has to.”

A moment later, there was a stirring on the bench behind us, and we turned around, surprised to see Cyrilla Blythe settling herself down. “Professor Blythe,” I said, “Hello.”

“Hello, Sabrina,” she greeted me. It had been a couple weeks since we’d seen her, other than during meals in the Great Hall. She was still not teaching classes and the rumours going about the castle was that she was being investigated for something, but nobody knew exactly what it was. “That was some excellent flying you did out there.”

Sirius turned back in surprise, too, at the sound of her voice, “I didn’t know you were a Quidditch fan.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not a horrid sport.”

“It’s brilliant,” I said with a sad smile, turning back as Derek’s whistle blew and he shouted out a few more numbers.

Remus asked, “When are you going to be teaching Defense again? We miss you.” I agreed with him. McGonagall wasn’t a bad teacher, but it was becoming quite apparent that Professor McGonagall was becoming tired with the two classes to juggle. She’d come into Transfiguration earlier this week and pulled out her Defense book and began talking about counter-jinxes before Lily had reminded her we were in Transfiguration.

“Perhaps soon,” said Professor Blythe, reaching a hand up to tuck a bit of stray hair behind her ear. When she did, a ring on her finger caught the sunlight and flashed bright as a star.

My attention was captured by the shin. “What’s that?” I asked, seeing her ring. 

Sirius’ eyes widened, “Woah, blimey, that’s huge!” It was a rather large diamond that set on her left hand and her face turned scarlet. 

“Who gave it to you?” I asked.

“N...nobody,” she stammered, “I ordered it.” She quickly turned so that the stone was facing inward to her palm and only the band showed on the outside.

Sirius and I shared a look. If she’d had that ring before now, we definitely would’ve noticed it. It was far too large to overlook. No...Cyrilla Blythe was newly engaged. But the question was to whom and why would it be a secret? Suspicion rose up in me and Sirius must’ve had the same thoughts, to tell James about the ring and get his opinion. The fact that Professor Blythe had been suspended from teaching just as she got engaged to somebody...and was being investigated… and McGonagall was refusing to tell us why...well, those things added up to something extremely terrible going on in my mind and I was going to find out what. 

A worried thought went through me suddenly: what if Cyrilla Blythe was engaged to a Death Eater and that was why she didn’t want to tell us? What if she was working for the Dark Lord and that was what they were investigating? A shiver went through me. Sure, Blythe didn’t seem the type to be doing dark things, but then again she was very passionate about the Dark Arts in class, and she’d obviously studied them to some extent to have become a DADA teacher...I glanced back at her, at her golden hair and excited eyes as she watched the proceedings on the pitch. Could Cyrilla herself be a Death Eater?

I sighed and shook my head, turning back to watch the few remaining players swooping about. The odds were looking pretty good for James. Derek had narrowed down the players until he had four Chasers, Three Beaters, Two Keepers, and Two Seekers. There were only five more players to cut, and one of them still flying about was James Potter. Derek was having them shoot goals against the Keepers on either end of the pitch and James hadn’t missed a single shot. Granted, nobody else had either, but it only meant that James, who was the youngest player still in play, was keeping up well with the students in higher years. James, Bilius and Andy Tinnamin were the only players still on from Gryffindor, besides Derek himself.

The whistle blew, signaling the end of the tryouts and Derek waved for everyone to land their brooms. They all spiraled down to the grass and stood about him. I hoped James would make it.

“Alright everyone, first off, you should be really honoured to have made it this far, you’re all brilliant and I’m really sorry I’ve got to cut some of you out. I really am.” Derek held his clipboard he’d been taking notes on and looked about them all as he spoke, “You all deserve to be in the tourney, but rules are rules and I can only have so many players. But you’re all going to be in our reserves. If we need any back-up players it’ll be you lot I’ll turn to.” Derek stared down at the clipboard a moment, making sure these were his final choices, and then he said, “I’m going to call a position and then the names of the players who’ve made the team. If you haven’t made it, please make your way to the stands. If you have, we’ll be meeting in the Gryffindor locker room to go over some team stuff that Dumbledore’s given me to share.”

Derek cleared his throat. “Seeker: Andy Tiananmen.”

“YES!” Andy jumped up in the air excitedly, then turned and shook hands with the other boy - a Hufflepuff named Jory Locheland. “Good play, mate,” he said.

“Congratulations,” Jory answered and he shook Andy’s hand and went off to join the Hufflepuffs in the stands.

I grinned, happy for Andy.

“Beaters,” Derek called. “Isaac Horan and Marty Brown.” The Slytherin nodded, having expected the appointment as the star Beater, but Marty, who was a sixth year Hufflepuff looked surprised. She was one of the few girls who had ever played the position at Hogwarts and being chosen for an All Star team as a female Beater...well that had to be some sort of first and her eyes twinkled with excitement at the appointment.

James looked like he was about to combust with anxiety.

Derek announced, “Keeper...Quentin Vane.” Quentin was a tall Ravenclaw who hadn’t let a single shot through the golden rings.

“And Chasers,” Derek said, coming to the end of his clipboard. “I, myself, of course, as Captain, will be taking one of the positions of Chaser. Joining me will be Jessica Abbott and Abby Jones.”

The two girls screamed and cheered and jumped up and down and Derek was shouting something about remembering they were all brilliant and being in reserves and all that, and James looked dizzy. Bilius clapped his hand on James’ shoulders, “Sorry mate,” he said. James numbly nodded and Bilius led him off the pitch.

“What the bloody hell!?” Sirius shouted, standing up on his bench, “That Abby Jones only made the team because she’s Gwenog’s sister, I’ll bet! Ridiculous! Where’s Derek’s brain? James is loads better than Abby Jones!”

Remus sighed.

“He’s going to be so upset,” I said, frowning. I was already extremely sad about my own being cut, but James’ life all but revolves around Quidditch. And this was his second major disappointment of the season.

“Shall I go to the kitchens and get some cakes to cheer him up?” Peter asked.

Sirius and I jumped onto my broom rather sloppily, and flew away from the stands to find James. My broom had never had a passenger before, so it was a bit wobblier than I was used to, and we found James being lead up to the castle by Bilius. 

James’ eyes were still unfocused with shock and tears were silently going down over his cheeks. 

We hopped off my broom. “We’ll take him from here, Bil,” I told Bilius.

“Alright,” Bilius said. He looked down at James, “It’ll be alright, mate. You really did do very well. I think Derek just wanted some older players for the tourney, you know? You’re a great player, this doesn’t mean you aren’t. You made it further than most everyone!” 

James nodded blankly.

“Thanks Bilius,” said Sirius. When he’d gone, he turned to James, “Are you alright, mate?”

James’ eyes were wet and red and there were tear tracks on his face. He shook his head, swallowing back a great lump that had risen up in his throat. “I’ve been cut,” he choked.

“I know,” I said, “And I’m sorry, but you did grand! You lasted far beyond me, and you were the only player on the team not above fourth year! The players that beat you were outstanding and you were playing just as well...you did spectacular, James, everyone was saying so in the stands.”

James shook his head, “But I failed,” he said miserably.

“Blimey, you didn’t fail,” Sirius replied, shaking his head, “You were brilliant.”

“I just wanted to be on the team so much,” James choked. “I just thought...I thought...I really expected…”

“I know, we all did,” I answered. I patted James’ back. “Peter’s going to go to the kitchen and get us some cakes to cheer you up,” I said.

James looked up at us, “I don’t want to see the others while I’m crying like this!”

“Alright,” Sirius said after a moment of thought, “Well, the three of us, we’ll go check on the Draught of Change, then, alright? And we’ll hang out there for a few until you can clear your head up and feel better.”

James nodded.

“Okay, let’s go then,” I said, and we were on our way. “Maybe there’ll be something there we can make tea with,” I suggested as we walked.

James sniffled, “Wonder what bicorn horn tea would be like.”

“Miserable, I expect,” I smiled, and Sirius and I each put our arm over his shoulders. 

Sirius smirked, “Have you ever smelled a bicorn? They’re rank as murder.”


	33. 1st and 5th March, 1973

1st March, 1973

March heralded its arrival with a bout of terrible weather that rocked the grounds. Sleet hit the windows of Gryffindor Tower and the ceiling of the Great Hall was a constant horrible grey. The boys and I continued checking on the Draught of Change as it bubbled and brewed in the Secret Room, as we’d taken to calling it, but there wasn’t much to do but peer in at it. The book had expressly warned about touching it too soon and the horrible effects that could have on our final results. Instead, our new focus for preparations was an even harder step than getting all the ingredients for the potion.

“So when did you learn how to do a nonverbal spell?” I asked Bilius Weasley and Derek Bell in the common room this afternoon. The pair of them had been working on doing some revising for the N.E.W.Ts and I had figured it as good a time as any to ask. The last step of the change was a nonverbal spell, which would be used anytime that we needed to change to and from our animal forms. It was, according to the book, absolutely necessary that it be an unspoken spell.

Derek thought for a moment, “It was last year, wasn’t it? With Tutman?”

“Nawh, mate...last year but it was Moody who taught us,” Bilius replied. “Brilliant man. Wish he was teaching Defense this term, too.”

“So not until sixth year?” I asked.

“Yeah, sixth year,” Derek said, nodding, “It’s not easy but it isn’t as hard as it sounds. I think they just wait that long so the teachers know you’re responsible or what have you before you’re able to cast spells they can’t hear.”

“Why in Merlin’s name did they teach it to us then?” Bilius cackled.

“Dunno, Moody hadn’t gotten to know you real well yet when he taught it, else he would’ve sent you off into the hall to wait,” Derek jibed, kicking Bilius’ ankle.

“Me! What about you?!” Bilius exclaimed.

Derek grinned, “I am a perfect example of a mature…”

Bilius snorted and said, talking over Derek, “Mature as the finest mead!”

I left them to argue their maturity levels and snuck back up to the boys’ dormitory to report back to Sirius and James, who were reading the Animagus book. Peter and Remus were both down at the table in the common room, studying with Lily. When the door to the dorm opened, the two boys shoved the book beneath the covers of Sirius’ bed quickly. “Oh, it’s just you,” James said, seeing me, “Did you get to talk to Derek?”

“And Bilius,” I answered. “They said they didn’t learn until sixth year...Defense Against the Dark Arts. Moody taught them.”

“Sixth year?!” Sirius clapped a hand to his forehead, “Oi, that is a problem...it’s such advanced magic!”

I shrugged, “They said it wasn’t hard, it’s more a maturity thing that makes it later in the curriculum. Bilius said the teachers want to hear what we’re casting so that’s why they don’t teach nonverbal spells until we’re a lot older.”

“Did they tell you how to do it?” James asked.

I shook my head, “They started bickering.”

“Well that’s not very helpful.” Sirius frowned.

James grabbed his wand from his pocket, “But how hard can it be, right? It’s just casting a spell without saying it out loud. Magic doesn’t depend on words, does it? Not real magic, anyway. It’s the wizard that makes it happen, not the word. The word’s just a way to focus the intent of the wizard, yeah?”

I took a seat in the chair by Sirius’ desk. “I s’pose…”

“I reckon we could do it first try if we really wanted to,” James said, and he looked about for something to inspire him for spell casting and he saw Remus’ quills laying across his desk, all arranged neatly, and he aimed his wand. I figured he was mentally trying to chant something like Wingardium Leviosa.

Sirius and I started hard as James’ face slowly went from eager to frustrated to nearly folding in on itself with aggravation. Sirius looked from James to the quills and back again. “Try harder.”

“I’m bloody trying as hard as I can,” James grunted.

I frowned.

Finally James gave up and relaxed his tensed muscles, looking at us with a tired expression on his face. “I guess it’s a bit harder than I thought,” he said apologetically.

5th March, 1973

The storms have now subsided, so the grounds were slick and muddy from the melting snow and rain. Filch was standing a constant guard in the Entrance Hall with a mop and bucket, muttering strings of complaints against the students that went in and out the door, leaving footprints across the floor. “I know it drives Filch positively batty, but the fresh air’s just too nice to pass up,” I exclaimed as the five of us made our way down the sloping hill to the old tree by the lake that we like to hang out beneath. James was sliding in the mud like he was skiing and waving his arms about, laughing as he went.

“Oh Filch can bugger off, it’s his job to clean the castle! If we didn’t make messes, what would he do with himself?” Sirius said, blowing off my concern. He’d reached the tree first and was already up in the branches, leaning against the trunk.

“Sit about with that cat of his,” Peter said, hopping and trying desperately to reach the lowest branch in the tree, wanting to climb up it like Sirius had done. Sirius gave no indication of noticing Peter’s plight. “Mrs. Norris is right creepy.”

Remus was standing awkwardly at the base of the tree. Usually he sat but there was a good deal of mud there. He reached over and helped Peter, pushing his large rump up so that he could cling a hold on the lowest branch. “She’s just a cat,” he said, “What’s so creepy about her?”

“All those ribs showing and those great yellow eyes…” Peter shuddered as his feet scraped the bark. I giggled as I climbed a few branches up, and leaned against my usual forked branch: lower than Sirius’ perch, but higher than Peter’s near failed attempt.

James had reached the tree and gone straight for the edge of the lake and begun lobbing stones in, trying to get the attention of the giant squid. “Reckon Filch thinks he’s married to that old dust rag of a cat?” he asked, snickering.

“Oi, probably does!” Sirius said with a guffaw, closing his eyes and basking in the little bit of sun that was striking his face. “He’s mad enough to, for sure.”

“Speaking of mad…” I muttered, whistling for the others to match my gaze.

The other four looked the way I did and saw Severus Snape walking across the grounds, too focused on his steps and the mud to notice us by the tree, muttering to himself as he walked. James and Sirius shared a grin, and Sirius leaned forward to get a better look at Snape as he walked.

“Oi, Snivellus, trying to muss up your robes so they match your hair?” Sirius called out.

Severus stopped walking and sighed, closing his eyes and pausing, as if he was trying to contain himself from combusting. He kept on walking without turning.

“Aw c’mon Snivelly,” shouted James, laughing, “Don’t you want to come over and play?”

“Ruddy Slytherin,” Sirius said darkly, “Always running away...just like his Mum.”

Remus was pushing Peter up in the tree again, his face red, “Maybe we shouldn’t tease him,” he muttered quietly.

“You have to admit, he’s earned at least some of it,” I replied.

James nodded solemnly, “He tried to rat out Sirius.”

“He got detention for that,” Remus replied, “It isn’t up to you lot to punish him.”

Sirius leaned back in his tree and closed his eyes as Severus had already left, and entered the greenhouses by now. “Since when do you care about Severus Snape?” he asked.

Remus sighed, “I don’t,” letting go as Peter finally made it up on the branch and clutched on with his chubby arms, now afraid of falling. “It’s just that it upsets Lily when you do it and I don’t like upsetting her.” He shrugged, “Besides, it’s not very nice. He wasn’t even bothering you just now.”

“Lily’s made you go soft, there, Re,” I murmured.

James turned and continued on with throwing rocks into the lake.

Remus leaned his back against the tree, arms crossed, and stared down at his feet, “Perhaps,” he said quietly.

***

It was quite late when Remus came up to the boy’s dormitory, where the four of us were “studying”, also known as reading the book on animagi. Remus looked so miserable it thankfully looked like he didn’t notice Sirius kicking the book off his bed and into the dark corner where he couldn’t see it. “How was snogging with your girlfriend?” Sirius teased before he’d got a good look at Remus’ face. He stopped immediately, though.

“Horrid.” Remus answered, turning to his bed.

“Horrid? C’mon, mate,” said James, “Surely she can’t be that awful at snogging?” Remus opened his trunk and withdrew his pyjamas without responding. “Wait. Is she?” James asked, eyes widening, “Is she really that awful?” He sounded almost excited at the prospect of Lily Evans being awful at something.

Remus sighed, “No. She is not the problem. It’s me. I am. I’m horrible!”

“Surely you can’t be that horrible,” I shrugged.

“You’re Remus Lupin!” Peter chimed in, “You’re good at everything you’ve ever tried to do.”

“Well, seems I’ve found my weakness, then,” Remus answered sharply. “I tried kissing her and I ended up cutting her lip. She laughed at me.”

I pulled a face, “She laughed?”

Remus nodded, “She laughed. While we were kissing. Interrupted it with all these giggles. Said she was sorry, but I mean there’s only so much a man’s pride can take.”

Sirius cringed, “Oi, that’s pretty horrid, mate. I’m sorry.” Remus groaned, putting his head in his hands in the agony of being apologised to. “But...but this was your first one, yeah?” Sirius amended quickly. “Maybe it’s like anything else, maybe you need practise.”

“Practise?” Remus spat the word, “How the ruddy hell do you reckon I’m to practise kissing?”

“Dunno,” Sirius answered off handedly, “Kiss Sabrina.”

“Um, no.” I said, eyes wide. “Love ya, Re, but no thanks.” The other four, including Remus, sniggered a bit. “Just give it another go with Lily, once your bloody pride is healed. And her lip, by the sound of it.”

“Oh Merlin,” Remus hid his face in his palms again. “I can’t believe I’ve given a girl a bloody lip trying to kiss her. It’s got to be the worst first kiss in the history of all time.” His voice was muffled by his pyjamas, which he was still holding.

James shrugged, laying down across his bed, “I’ve heard all first kisses are awful.”

Peter squeaked, “Well Sirius has snogged before. So what was your first kiss like then, Sirius?”

James sat up and looked over at Sirius, an amused expression on his face. I gave Sirius a light push, “Yeah, Snogging King, how was your first kiss?” I asked, my voice almost daring him to answer.

Sirius paused, “Well I reckon there’s been so many, I’m having a bit of trouble recalling my very first one!” he answered, grinning.

“Riiiiight.” I smirked.

James flopped back down onto the bed, “Just as I expected.”

Remus laughed. “Well, good job you lot, you’ve at least made me feel an inkling better.”


	34. 6th and 15th March, 1973

6th March, 1973

This morning, the Daily Prophet’s front page was about James’ parents. Or more specifically, his dad. Fleamont Potter, Muggle Hero, Saves Neighbourhood Family From Fire, Arrested. The moving photograph on the cover showed the Muggle firemen rushing about, trying to douse the flames, marvelling over the way the sparks seemed contained by some invisible shield. 

“This your dad, Potter?” Andy Tinnamin asked, holding up the paper for James, as he and I were eating with the Quidditch team this morning.

James took the page, shock and awe upon his face. I flipped to the article in my own paper. It was accompanied by two smaller images of his parents. The article went on to say that the two of them had been brought to the Ministry of Magic to be tried for breaking the Statute of Secrecy, but the writer expected they would get off just fine as Mrs. Potter hadn’t been seen casting any spells, and Mr. Potter had only performed magic in front of Muggles in order to save their lives.

After all, the article read, in times of extreme duress, exceptions are made. All of the onlookers’ memories were appropriately modified to include the daring rescue, without the magic involved. Fleamont Charlus Potter was simply doing his duty as a good neighbour, ensuring the safety of those who do not possess the powers to save themselves. Potter, the creator of the Sleekeazy hair tonic, ought to be celebrated as a hero to Muggles, rather than chastised by the Ministry.

“This is brilliant, what he did,” I said, “You ought to be proud of your dad for this, James.”

“Do you lot think he’ll get off?” James asked the older students, a bit scared of the answer, as he looked up and handed the paper back to Andy.

“Sure he will,” Bilius replied, “Everyone’s big on saving the Muggles right now! It’s like Muggle-mania out there.”

Derek said, “Your folks will have to be extra careful now, though. Once you’re pegged for being a friend to Muggles, you’re on Voldemort’s targeted list.” He looked bleakly at the paper as Andy handed it down the table when Frank Longbottom had asked to see it. Derek took a deep breath, handing it off. “Trust me. I know all too well what happens when you’re a known supporter of Muggle welfare.”

James swallowed back his fear. “But it wasn’t Voldemort’s work that Dad was undoing,” he said, “Just an ordinary fire. The article said it was the heater that’s done it. Cold night and all, it was left running and caused the fire.”

“Doesn’t matter what caused the fire...Voldemort celebrates Muggle deaths whether they are of his own doing or not,” Derek answered with a shrug. “And look. It’s obvious from that picture on the front that there were protective charms put on that house. See how the sparks are just bouncing off them, not setting any of the other houses on fire with it?”

James nodded, “My dad set charms about all the houses he could in the whole neighbourhood.”

Derek nodded, “So did my folks.”

James looked quite green,

“Your dad’s a hero, James,” I said, trying to cheer him up.

James nodded.

“They aren’t going to send him to Azkaban for saving a load of lives. Don’t worry.” 

“By the sounds of it,” James murmured, “He’s got a whole lot worse than Azkaban to worry about now.”

***

James’ father being a hero to Muggles was big news throughout the castle in no time at all. It was as if James was a celebrity, as people stopped him in the hall to congratulate him on having such a brave father. “Just think,” said a Ravenclaw fourth year, “If he hadn’t been there to help, that whole family would’ve been burned alive!”

“Yeah,” James agreed, nodding. The moment the girl had walked away, he turned to us, “Bloody hell, I ought to start charging folks to shake my hand, I’d make loads of money.” We were on our way to Defense Against the Dark Arts and had been stopped no less than three times by curious and excited students.

“Well, you really should be proud of him, shouldn't you?” Lily said, following along with us, side-by-side with Remus, huddling her books to her chest, “I mean your father’s really done something marvelous, hasn’t he? He’s stood up against the Dark Lord.”

“He stood up against an overactive heater’s what he’s done,” James said.

“But in a roundabout way it’s against the Dark Lord,” Lily argued. “I mean, the Dark Lord thinks Muggle lives are useless and that they shouldn’t be protected by wizards. Your dad used magic to save them. That’s something Voldemort would never want.”

“I just wish that everyone would stop making such a blasted big deal about it,” James said. “The more of a deal they make of it, the more likely it is to upset Voldemort and the more likely it is for them to end up killed. So excuse me if I’m not bursting with excitement over the thought of it.”

We’d reached the classroom and Peter came to a stop in the doorway. “Well, blimey.”

“What is it?” I asked, eager to stop James and Lily from arguing any further. But Peter didn’t have time to answer as we all bounded around the corner, to see that Professor Blythe was back in the Defense room, her back to us. On the wall behind her desk was a large projection of a fearsome-looking ghoul. “Awesome,” I said with excitement, elbowing James, “Looks like it’s going to be a fun one, eh?”

“Yeah, brilliant,” said James, but he still felt distracted.

The class was a good one, it was quite interesting learning about ghouls and as much as I loved Professor McGonagall, I couldn’t help but feel that Cyrilla Blythe taught the subjects a bit more excitingly. But when Sirius raised his hand and asked Professor Blythe what had kept her away so long, she simply shook her head and said that it was a long story, better suited for another time. I noticed that she kept her ring carefully turned so that the shiny diamond stayed facing her palm and my suspicions were awakened once again.

Who was Blythe engaged to? And why was it such a big secret? What had gotten her suspended from teaching and why was she back now? What had changed between then and now?

It turned out that turning her ring about couldn’t keep the rumours from spreading. As students had Defense classes, the news of Professor Blythe’s mysterious engagement filled the halls of Hogwarts and by lunch the Great Hall was abuzz with people sorting through their thoughts on the topic. 

Having a free afternoon until it was time for Astronomy, the boys and I were wandering about the castle, working on our map. We’d investigated a hidden staircase behind a tapestry that connected the seventh floor corridor to the third floor, where I was sure Filch had used several times when he’d chased us about in the dark. Remus scrawled the tunnel onto the map as we sat huddled about a desk in an empty classroom. The map was coming on quite nicely, and we were pretty excited about it, dreaming of all the galleons we could sell it for to the next term’s firsties.

We were walking along down the hallway together, arguing about how we ought to spend our riches. Sirius was trying to talk us into a motorcycle. Remus insisted Gringotts’ investments were the way to go. Peter pointed out we could buy all of the sweets in Honeydukes and have some left over to get some butterbeers. I tried to explain how we could keep it and wait til we graduated from Hogwarts, and travel the world for a year. James wanted to split it up evenly to do with as we each pleased. Suddenly, we heard someone up ahead. “Hide the map,” hissed James. “We don’t want anybody stealing our idea.”

Remus struggled with stuffing it into his pocket: it was rather a pain to fold it down quickly (as most maps are) and too large to shove it in half-folded, so he held it behind his back, wishing there was a way to conceal it better. 

Derek Bell came ‘round the corner looking rather peaky and troubled, muttering to himself as he walked. Sirius glanced ‘round at us and called out, “Oi, Derek.”

Derek looked up. “Oh. Hey,” he answered. “What are you lot doing down here? Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Shouldn’t you be?” I answered. “We’ve got a free period.”

Derek shrugged. “Well...I…” he looked quite uncomfortable in a moment, then shook his head, “You know, I’m sorry, I’m actually rather busy. I don’t really have time to talk, I’ve gotta go.” He stepped around us and started on down the hallway.

I raised an eyebrow as Derek disappeared on down the hallway. I glanced back the way Derek had come. “Think he’s skiving?” I asked.

“Must be,” Sirius replied.

“Then what’s he doing down the classrooms corridor? He’d be insane to go walking about near the classrooms when he’s skiving,” Remus said, “Whichever professor he’s supposed to be with would see him and he’d be in detention for sure.”

James rubbed his chin, “Maybe he walked out of a class.”

“Derek doesn’t seem the dramatic exit sort,” Peter pointed out.

“Acting sullen enough to have done,” Sirius commented, glowering at Derek’s retreating form.

I was looking on down the hall, thinking, as the other four talked hurriedly in hushed voices. “You reckon he heard about Professor Blythe?” I asked.

“Well, so what if he did?” asked Peter.

“Bilius said that he used to date her, before she left Hogwarts, remember? And he still fancies her? Maybe Derek heard about her being engaged and he’s gone mad,” I said.

James’ eyebrows went up, “Perhaps. Still, he could be friendlier. Acting like that, it’s no wonder she’s chosen some other bloke over him, isn’t it?”

There suddenly came a very loud, very terrible scream from somewhere far-off in the castle. A girl. Our eyes all met and we dashed for the staircases. The scream had come from the Entrance Hall, by the stairs. There was a huddle of students already converging on the girl who had screamed. We hurried down to see what happened, joining the cluster of eagerly helpful students and the busybodies who wanted nothing more than the next big scoop to pass about like wildflowers. Peter and Remus were quickly left outside the ring of pressing bodies while Sirius, James and I waded through to hear the words that were being said.

“Terrible, just awful…”

“I should think that people would think before they go protecting Muggles…”

My stomach clenched, first thinking of James’ father. He seemed to be thinking the same thing, and shoved even harder in toward the centre of the ring. “What happened? What’s going on?” He made his way to the front, Sirius and I struggling to follow behind.

One of the girls surrounding the sobbing girl on the stairs caught him, stopping him going any further, her blue-lined robe telling me she was in Ravenclaw. “Her father’s been killed.”

“Who is it?” Sirius and I asked in unison, coming up behind James.

“Amelia Salt,” replied a Hufflepuff girl.

“Isn’t that the girl Bilius was snogging last term?” Sirius asked, eyes wide.

I nodded, “I think so.”

“Blimey,” whispered Sirius.

There was a commotion down in the Entrance Hall and we looked up to see McGonagall coming out of the Great Hall and pushing her way through the crowd from the opposite side. “Excuse me!” she was shouting, “Move aside. Move aside!” We scrambled back to allow room for others in the cluster to move back and when McGonagall had reached the girl at the centre, she had to pry none other than Bilius Weasley away from her in order to help the girl to her feet. Bilius scrambled to help keep Amelia Salt steady as McGonagall brought her down the stairs the way she’d come and all three disappeared into the little room beside the Hall.

The cluster instantly began to break apart, and the three of us shouldered our way to Remus and Peter. “It was another death,” I said, reaching them, answering the question in Remus’ eyes.

“Another one?” Peter squeaked, terrified. “Who now?”

“Amelia Salt’s father,” Sirius replied.

Remus looked quite frightened. “He worked for the Ministry. My father’s mates with Marcus Salt.”

“Well, he’s dead now,” James said rather coldly. “Somebody in that cluster was saying he’s been killed for helping the Muggles. Like the Bells. Like a load of others, too, apparently.” He looked sick to his stomach. “If my dad gets killed...I, I dunno what I’ll….” he was fighting back tears.

I touched his shoulder, “Your dad’s not going to be killed…”

“You don’t know that!” James argued, “Could be being killed right this moment back home. We don’t know. Nobody is safe! Voldemort’s going to kill us all.”

I felt quite numb, not being able to shake the feeling of how much danger my own parents are in. Everyone around me is worried about helping Muggles, but my parents are Muggles! I didn’t even notice my hands were shaking until Sirius entwined his fingers in them.

Several people turned their heads to see what James’ shouting was about.

Sirius let go of my hands and quickly grabbed a hold of James, “C’mon, you’re making a spectacle. Let’s get back up to the Tower and we’ll talk in our room.” The five of us moved through the crowded stairwell, headed back to the dormitories. People were looking warily at James as they passed through, as though they were afraid he was about to toss a fit.

15th March, 1973

The deaths were beginning to become a near daily occurrence. Students took out subscriptions to The Daily Prophet and the papers were passed about the house tables with an air of nervousness as people read over the articles describing the latest battles fought against the Dark Lord. Every day, there were lists of names of witches, wizards, and muggles who were victims of the Dark Lord or his Death Eaters. Breakfast was punctuated by the sounds of people crying out, recognising a name or two, of tears and talks of how someone knew this person or that person. Now and then, it would be a family member that had been killed and someone would be led out of the Great Hall by their Head of House to grieve. The Great Hall seemed emptier than usual as people travelled home to attend funerals or were pulled from the school by fearsome parents who thought their children would be safer at home than at school.

“Bloody idiots,” said Derek, shaking his head when us Quidditch players heard that Andy Tinnamin’s folks were thinking of having him come home early, rather than allowing him to finish the term. “Haven’t they noticed there hasn’t been a single attack made at Hogwarts? It’s so well protected, Voldemort would never dream of coming here.”

Andy shrugged, “They’re worried about the Tournament, too,” he admitted, “With the American President of Magic and the Minister both here, they’re afraid it’ll be too good a target for Voldemort to resist.”

Bilius sighed, “We can’t stop living our lives!”

Andy sighed, “I know that, but try telling my mum that. She’s gone mad with worry.”

“I’ll say she has,” Derek said. 

“What about graduating?” I said, “Won’t you have to take seventh year over if you leave now?”

Andy’s voice was heavy, “Yup. Preaching to the choir, you are.”


	35. 20th and 21st March, 1973

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm back!!!! I took a prolonged absence, as there was some trauma in my life that I've been dealing with. I don't want to get into the details, but I was in a pretty heavy depression for a long time. But I'm getting a bit better, so here's some more chapters :)
> 
> SheRipper, your comments gave me so much LIIIIIFE!

20th March, 1973

The entire world seemed to have lost their minds in the grips of the fear overtaking them. Every letter that was sent by owl was searched thoroughly, and the school went onto the absolute highest alert, fearful of any attacks that may be made by Lord Voldemort. Even the faculty seemed on edge. Professor Blythe had shouted at Sirius for doodling during class, for instance. “This is ruddy important!” she had snapped at him, “What you learn in this classroom could literally save your life out there in the real world...don’t you understand that?!”

Only Dumbledore seemed as cool and calm as he ever had.

The only thing that seemed to distract us terrified students from the war was talk of the Tournament. The first of April was coming ever closer, the arrival of the Ilvermorny students imminent. The school was being polished from dungeons to turrets by Filch and the North Tower had been prepared to be a sort of makeshift dormitory for the visitors. Derek was seen out on the pitch with the All Star team nearly every day, flying and practising, preparing for the tourney that was coming up, and always there was a small crowd in the stands. The four boys and I were all regulars, along with Frank, Lily, Ali, and Bilius. Several others from other houses were there as well, like Xenophilius Lovegood from Ravenclaw who always cheered too loudly, and several teachers including Cyrilla Blythe. It seemed with everything that was going on in the world, Quidditch had become the point ‘round which everyone gathered to have fun and clear their minds of all the darkness. Talk of the tourney filled the school halls as the excitement built.

The full moon came and went. While Remus had gone to the Shrieking Shack, Sirius, James, Peter and I checked on the Draught of Change in the Secret Room, but not much seemed to have happened with it in the first month of brewing (which was good, according to the book) and we continued working on our nonverbal spells. 

“You know, it would be a lot easier if Remus could help us,” Peter pointed out one night as we stood around the boys’ dorm, trying to move a feather without speaking aloud. None of us had managed the skill yet. “He could probably do this in just one go.”

“We can’t tell Remus,” Sirius persisted. “Not until we know this is going to work!”

21st March, 1973

We were out in the castle late this evening, mapping as usual, when we heard footsteps on the stairs by the fifth floor stairwell. We quickly ducked out of sight, hiding behind a long tapestry that concealed a hidden staircase, crouching beneath the invisibility cloak, listening closely. There were three voices approaching down the corridor from the stairwell. I recognised them almost instantly as Bilius, Derek, and Andy. Peter was about to climb out from behind the tapestry, excited since we knew the three Gryffindor seventh years would never give us up to Filch, when we heard a fourth voice coming from the other direction.

“Good evening,” said Dumbledore, a smile in his voice. “I was just coming to meet you at the stairs. I apologise for the late time of the meeting,” he added, “But due to the rather clandestine nature of what we’re about to discuss here today...you understand.”

“Yeah, whatever time is good for you is brilliant for us,” Bilius said boisterously. “We just want to help out in stopping this madness.”

Dumbledore chuckled, “I understand you are quite eager to assist, but I’m afraid your tasks will seem simple at first. I promise, however, that they will be of utmost importance to the overall work of the Resistance.”

My eyes nearly popped out of my head as I looked ‘round at the boys. Bilius, Derek and Andy were joining the Resistance?

“We’re ready, Headmaster,” said Derek solemnly. “We’re all of age, we’re all adults by law. I know we haven’t finished school just yet, but...blimey, all that’s left are the N.E.W.T. exams and we’re done. It’s as good as over, really. We’ve learned what we’ll learn. And I just can’t sit about here in this castle, thinking about how Alice and my parents…” he stopped mid-sentence. “I just can’t stay out of it any longer, sir.”

“Send us out,” Andy joined in.

Dumbledore said, “Well first, let us go to my office and we will talk about this a bit more. The walls have ears, as they say. Come,” Dumbledore directed, and he quickly escorted the three seventh years off down the hallway to the great gargoyles that guarded his office door, their footsteps fading away.

We jumped out from behind the tapestry, Peter dusting off some cobwebs that had tangled about him as we stood in the dark. Remus was flattening the crumpled corners of the map against his chest. “They’re joining up to the Resistance,” Sirius said, “I want to join. Nothing would anger Mother and Father more than that.”

“That’s not a very good reason to join the Resistance, making your folks angry,” Remus said. “The Resistance is a whole lot of life-risking, you need to be doing that sort of thing for the right reasons.”

“Defeating Voldemort is the reason,” I pointed out.

“And a good one at that,” Sirius added.

Peter shivered, “I should think they would be afraid to join. Especially Derek. He’s already seen how powerful Voldemort is first-hand…”

I sighed.

“You can’t go not standing up to him, just because he’s powerful,” argued Sirius as we walked toward the staircase. “Nobody would ever fight any of the villains of the world if that’s how that worked. He’s powerful, sure, but together we’re more powerful.”

Peter still didn’t look comfortable with the idea, but he didn’t press his point any further than he already had done.

I shook my head, “But we’re far too young. You can’t join the Resistance yet. It took Bilius, Andy, and Derek ages to join. They’ve been asking all term, haven’t they? McGonagall and Dumbledore kept saying no to them, and they’ll say no to us, too. They’ll say we’re just kids.”

“I bloody hate that,” James said, “Why’s it matter how old we are? We’re willing! And the way it sounds, they’re losing people left and right. They need as many hands as they can. Voldemort doesn’t mind having kids working for him...neither should the Resistance!”

Remus sighed, “Yeah but we aren’t trained, James. What good are we against Voldemort and all his friends?”

I nodded in agreement with Remus, “Have you learned nothing from what happened in the Forbidden Forest last term? If it hadn’t been for Snape telling Dumbledore…”

“Snape!” said James, rolling his eyes as we turned ‘around a corner, “Ruddy, greasy-haired little…”

Suddenly James was on his back, having collided with none other than Severus Snape, who was also sprawled on his back. Sirius quickly withdrew his wand from his pocket. I placed my hand in my own pocket, not wanting to come off immediately aggressive, but being prepared nonetheless. Peter, who was still carrying the invisibility cloak, tossed it over himself. Remus looked on, positively stunned, as Sirius leaped over James and aimed his wand right at Snape’s throat.

“What are you doing here?” Sirius asked heatedly. He had a point. We were on the sixth floor: positively eons from the dungeons where Snape belonged. Then again, we weren’t exactly where we belonged at this hour, either, but we were certainly closer to it than Snape.

Severus’ wand hand twitched. James quickly fumbled through his pockets for his wand. “Expelliarmus,” James said, and the wand attempted to fly out of Severus’ hand, but with lightning-fast reflexes, Severus caught it before it could go and his eyes turned to James.

“Don’t you dare disarm me,” he hissed.

Sirius pressed his wand closer so that it dug into Snape’s throat. “I asked you a question, Snivellus,” he growled.

Remus cleared his throat, “Why don’t we just…”

“It’s none of your business what I’m doing, you filthy blood traitor,” Snape shouted over Remus’ nervous voice. The words seemed to echo down the hall.

“Filch will have heard that for sure!” wailed Peter’s disembodied voice from our left.

James aimed, “Locomotor mortis,” he said and Severus’ body went suddenly quite rigid. “There. Leave him here and let Filch or his ruddy cat find him.”

Sirius laughed, “Yeah. Or we could push him out of the way and let nobody find him ‘til after the weekend. Maybe some time alone up here in an empty classroom would do you some good.”

Remus looked sick and said quickly, with a bit of desperation to his voice, “You wouldn’t want that...when he gets found, they’ll know someone’s cast the leg locker on him, yeah? So he’ll tell them and they’ll know it was you and you’ll end up in trouble.”

“If we let him go we end up in trouble, too,” I said, “He’ll tell just the same.”

“If you let him go,” said Remus patiently, glancing over his shoulder, afraid Filch was on his way, “Then we all go our own way back to our dormitories. None of us can go to faculty right now without incriminating ourselves as well as the other party. It’s all of us or none of us, don’t you see?”

I sighed, “He’s right.”

Sirius frowned.

“Please, Sirius,” Remus added, “I...I don’t want to end up in a detention or something.” I looked at Snape and did feel slightly badly. Snape hadn’t really done anything to earn it other than be outnumbered. In this instance, anyway.

“Locomotor vitae,” muttered Sirius, half-heartedly flicking his wand in Severus’ direction. He turned, without saying anything, and walked on down the hallway.

James looked down at Severus. “You heard Remus,” he said threateningly, “It’s all of us or none of us. If you go getting some bloody idea of telling some teacher or something, just remember we’ll know who’s done it and you’ll be paying for it.” He stowed his wand and stormed off after Sirius.

I watched his back recede into the shadows, and I took a deep breath. Severus had struggled up to a sitting position by now and was rubbing the spot on his neck where Sirius’ wand had pressed deeply into his skin. Remus went over and held a hand out to him.

Snape swatted the palm away. “I don’t need your help,” he snapped.

Remus’ face twitched ever so slightly at the rude attitude that Severus was throwing at him, after he’d kept the prat from being caught in the halls after dark. I walked over and shoved past Severus rather hard...accidentally pushing him into the invisible form of Peter.


	36. 1st April, 1973

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter time, WHOOP WHOOP!
> 
> Thank you sooo much to SheRipper, who really wrote such an amazing comment. I'm not going to paste it all here, but it really was sweet of you to take the time to write that out :)

I awoke with a start, my covers wrapped about me oddly and tight. I’d been thrashing during the night. Funny sorts of dreams had plagued me: different scenarios involving my torture and death at the hands of Voldemort. I freed myself from the duvet, kicking it off the bed in frustration.

I dressed quickly and quietly so not to disturb Lily’s sleeping form, leaving my Gryffindor tie loose around my neck. I couldn’t handle even just one more tiny thing such as that pressing into me...physically or mentally. I stared at myself in the little mirror by the door and frowned, turning away. I had deep bags underneath my steely blue eyes, and my hair was a bit poofier than usual, if that was even possible. But I didn’t really care at this point. I removed the tie altogether, tossing it over my desk chair.

It was Sunday so the common room was pretty full of students sitting about, rushing to do essays they’d been assigned to have done first thing in the morning. I shouldered my bookbag, planning on going by the library after breakfast, and set off out of the portrait hole and down the hallway, still thinking about my nightmares.

“Sabrina, wait up!”

I paused when I heard my name and turned ‘round to see Remus trotting on after me. I bit my lip and waited for him, still feeling quite depressed.

“You look like a mess, are you alright?” He asked.

“Just peachy,” I shrugged, trying to take the focus away from my dishevelled form. “Let’s get some breakfast.”

The two of us started walking on down to the Great Hall. “Are you as nervous as James is this morning?” Remus asked as we walked, looking over at me.

“Nervous as James?” I echoed with confusion. “Nervous about what?”

“About the Ilvermorny team coming today?” Remus chuckled, “I’ll take it as a no, then?”

I stopped dead in my tracks, “That’s today? Today’s the first already?” Anxiety did begin to blossom in me.

“Don’t worry,” Remus said, “There’s really nothing to be nervous about. I wasn’t trying to panic you, only just was going to say that James is nervous about meeting the Ilvermorny team and--”

“Meet them?”

“For dinner?” Remus supplied.

“For dinner?!” My eyes were wide.

“Didn’t you read the notice board? Derek put up this morning that he’s set up with McGonagall for the Ilvermorny team to have a very special late dinner with the Quidditch players...James asked if it was just the All Stars that were invited and Derek said that it was anyone who plays for the school. All four captains are welcome to bring their full teams.”

A feeling of panic seemed to rise up inside me. Why today, of all days, when I was feeling so awful, missing my parents, and looked so horribly? Why did today need to be the first? 

I decided to hold all of the swirling emotions back and give a tiny smile to my concerned friend, and we continued walking toward the Great Hall.

***

We were finished eating by the time Sirius, Peter and James came down. We were chatting with Frank about the strange mooncalves that his Care of Magical Creatures class had studied during the full moon the week before. “They only come out in the full moon, you see,” Frank was saying, “Similar to werewolves, you know, except they aren’t as horrible, of course…”

“Werewolves aren’t so horrible,” Sirius said, butting in as he sat down on the bench. He nudged Remus, who he had sat next to, grinning.

“They dance,” Frank continued without reacting to Sirius at all. “On their hind legs. They leave these very intricate patterns in the fields...drives Muggles mad, they do. You’ve heard of crop circles, yeah? Those funny things Muggles insist are alien life forms communicating with mankind?” Frank guffawed, “If only they knew it was great big magical cows that were making them!”

I nodded slightly. “Wow,” I said, “That sounds interesting. Did you get to see one?”

“Oh yes, Professor Kettleburn said they’re rather common. He brought us out on a field trip this week to the other side of Hogsmeade, the whole class. We got to have dinner at the Three Broomsticks and hear the Shrieking Shack.” He shivered, “It was making a real racket that night! And then he brought us out to the fields and we saw the mooncalves. It was smashing!”

Sirius and Peter exchanged glances at the mention of the Shrieking Shack and the racket it had made. “It sounds brilliant,” Sirius said, smirking, “Kettleburn’s class sounds like a right adventure.”

“Oh yes, he’s fearless when it comes to magical creatures,” Frank said. “I s’pose that’s why he’s missing so many of his fingers, though.”

James was busy staring down at the plate of food that had appeared in front of him upon sitting. He picked at his sausages half-heartedly.

If James and I were nervous, then Derek was a real wreck. Frank was just telling us about the clabbert that Kettleburn had shown them earlier in the year when Bilius and Andy came in, dragging Derek along as he muttered frantically, staring down at a checklist in his palm, his hair tufting out in several directions.

“Here, mate, sit here and eat something,” Bilius said, shoving Derek down into his place at the table, “You’ve been harried all morning, take a break of it.”

“Yeah, put down the checklist,” said Andy, reading over and snatching the parchment from Derek’s hand, “You’ll be just fine, you’ve done everything.”

“Not everything,” Derek argued.

“You’ve got half the afternoon…” Andy started.

“And besides, it’s April first,” Bilius said, “And we haven’t even done a single prank yet! What a waste of a perfectly good holiday!”

Derek’s eyes looked up sharply. “Absolutely no pranks.” He looked at us as well, “You lot hear me? No pranks. The Ilvermorny team’s going to be here soon and the last thing we need is them thinking we’re a bunch of lunatics for setting off Filibuster Fireworks and that sort of hooliganism.”

Bilius mimed having been shot with an arrow. “You wound me.”

“Et tu, Bili,” said Andy, grinning.

Derek’s voice was solemn, “I’m serious.”

“No you aren’t, I am,” said Sirius.

Bilius leaped from his seat to give Sirius a high-five as the others all laughed uproariously at the joke...except Derek, James and I. “This is a very important happening!” Derek was saying, “This tourney is the first time that Ilvermorny and Hogwarts have worked together and it’s absolutely imperative that everything goes well!”

“Yes, we know, mate,” Bilius said as he returned to his seat, “Political hand-shaking and all that lot. But blimey, Bell, it’s April Fool’s!”

Derek went to answer when a barrage of owls came hooting through the high windows of the Great Hall, delivering letters and newspapers and packages to students and Derek pushed away the plate Bilius had set before him in all of the hubbub that was going on. James received a letter from his mother saying that his dad’s charges had been dropped by the Ministry, of course. He looked a little better after that.

After breakfast, we all went back to Gryffindor Tower to prepare...except for Derek, who had said he had things to do elsewhere. The Ilvermorny team was due to arrive a bit after lunch and the entire school was to go out onto the grounds to welcome them. I met the boys in the common room, and saw that James had his Quidditch robes on.

“What’re you wearing those for?” I asked.

“So they see I’m a player, too,” James said.

The afternoon seemed to disappear instantly and soon enough the portrait hole opened and Andy was shouting through that it was time to head out to the grounds. The whole of Gryffindor was nervous now, and I spotted Lily, her hair braided and wrapped about her head so that it framed her face nicely. The girls were all a twitter about her, talking about the Ilvermorny boys and whether they would look nicer than the boys at Hogwarts. We took up the rear of the mass of Gryffindors that flooded out of the portrait hole. Bilius was in the lead, directing us all down the stairs. We merged with a body of Ravenclaws part way down and the two groups continued on through the castle.

“Do you think they took the train?” Sirius asked.

“A train? From the States? A train wouldn’t be able to get across the water! They had to have flown, or something.” I said.

“On brooms?” Peter squeaked, “All the way from America? Do you reckon they could’ve fallen off? Or seen a shark?”

“Of course not all the way on brooms,” I said, shaking my head, “Probably on an aeroplane.”

“Well that doesn’t make sense, either,” suggested Remus. “Wouldn’t the Muggles question what the Quidditch equipment was?” I shrugged, not having an answer.

We all poured out on to the grounds of Hogwarts, joining an excited throng of Slytherins and Hufflepuffs that were already outside. Dumbledore and several other faculty members were lined up at the foot of the stairs leading up to the entrance. Filch ran about between the students, separating them so that Ravenclaw and Gryffindor stood to one side of the stairs and Slytherin and Hufflepuff stood opposite them, leaving a narrow space up into the castle for the visitors to walk through. Anticipation and excitement buzzed through all four groups of students, a cacophony of voices echoing off the castle.

Sirius elbowed James and I, and pointed.

The Hogwarts team that Derek had assembled were standing down below with the faculty and Derek was behind them just a few yards away, talking to Professor Blythe, who had one hand on his shoulder as she spoke. “Nice of her to calm him down,” Sirius said, “Merlin knows Derek’s about to go mental over all of this.”

“Yeah it is,” I agreed.

Once Filch had managed to separate out the houses, he ran down the stairs rolling out a long black carpet that had the Hogwarts crest in the very centre and went all the way from the door to the foot of the stairs, where Dumbledore stood. When Filch reached the bottom, Dumbledore said something to him and then turned and looked to the sky.

All of us followed suit with a great sound of shuffling feet. I cupped a hand over my brow. The clouds moved silently over the castle, the blue sky bright and lovely, sunlight pouring down over the grounds, warm and pale yellow. A bird flew by.

“I can’t see,” complained Peter, whose short stature made it so he couldn’t really see over the person in front of him at the part of the sky we were all looking at.

“Nothing’s happening,” whispered Remus.

“I want to see,” Peter said.

“There’s still nothing happening,” I replied.

“This is bloody boring,” said Sirius, “Why’d they bring us out here so early if the ruddy Americans aren’t even here on time?”

Suddenly James’ hand flew forward, so eager to point that he managed to hit Remus right in the back of the head. “There!” he shouted, “There!”

I looked where James was pointing and sure enough there was a black dot in the sky growing steadily larger.

“Blimey!” I whispered as the little dot in the sky James was pointing to became bigger and bigger, the shape more defined. I could hardly believe my eyes.

For in the sky, where there’s once been naught but a dot amongst the clouds, was the quickly descending form of a powder blue Volkswagen bus, spiraling toward the ground. The bus slowly lowered until its wheels touched down and Dumbledore clapped heartily. The sound of his palms hitting together was the only one that could be heard besides the rumbles and ticks of the engine as the little VW bus vibrated, and then shuddered into silence.

The door in the back of the bus opened up, and a tall, very skinny man climbed out, wearing long purple robes, and a small beanie of a cap with a silver tassel that hung over the side. He had round glasses that reminded me of John Lennon. The man was older, though not bearded, but the hair that stuck out in curls beneath the beanie was white as snow. The man hastened to Dumbledore, a grin upon his face, and he extended his palm, taking hold of Dumbledore’s own extended hand, and vigorously shaking it.

“Welcome to Hogwarts!” Dumbledore said happily.

“Great to be here finally!” said the man, still shaking Dumbledore’s hand, “Put an Extendable Charm on her, but there’s only so much you can do to make it comfortable and we were wicked cramped, packing in like sardines as they say! Glad to have made it to Hogwarts!” He spoke with a very distinct dialect, one which seemed to pronounce the secondary R’s softer, or possibly not at all, so that he sounded as though he’d said ‘sah-deens’ and ‘hagwahts’.

“You’re right,” James hissed to Sirius, “They do have funny accents.” Sirius nodded.

“That’s Randy Temple,” Remus whispered to us, “He’s the principal of the school, which is sort of like a headmaster, I guess.”

“And he talks like that? All improper and such?” asked Peter, wrinkling his nose, clearly judging the man for it.

“They’re a lot less formal in the States,” said Remus, “My mum was like that when she got excited.” His eyes looked far-off for a moment, and then he shook himself back to the present as Principal Temple moved on through the line of faculty waiting to greet him, starting with Professor McGonagall, who looked quite taken aback by the roughness of the man’s handshake.

Next out of the back of the bus was a student: a boy, who wore dark blue robes, open at the front, with a pair of jeans that were ripped at the knee, and a plain white t-shirt beneath them. He had sandy blonde hair and a smattering of freckles across his face and appeared to be about Derek’s age. This, I guessed, was the Ilvermorny team captain. Sure enough, the boy held out a hand to Dumbledore and announced, “I’m Jack Scout, captain of the Ilvermorny team.” He, too, had an accent, but it was very different than Randy Temple’s had been. It was thicker and twangier.

The boys and I exchanged glances. “Do they all talk different?” asked James.

“There’s a lot of dialects in the States,” answered Remus.

Jack Scout was followed by a girl with frizzy and curly red hair that hung about her face as though it was spun like candy floss, clashing horribly with her purple robes. She introduced herself as Meg Johnson, Seeker. Next was another girl, this one with platinum blonde hair that hung to her waist. She looked much nicer in the purple robes than Meg Johnson had and she smiled with perfectly straight teeth that seemed to glow they were so white. She was a Chaser and her name was Dawn Gleason and half of the boys of Hogwarts were instantly in love with her, and I didn’t blame them.

“She’s marvelous,” whispered Sirius, eyes wide, “Merlin’s beard.”

Two boys with olive robes emerged next - the other two Chasers. One was Eric Danes, whose skin was tanner than the others had been, with long black hair that he had braided down to his back, and I believe he was Native American. The other was Richie Hart, who was pale as could be and wore shorts under his robes. Following them came another boy in dark blue robes, Nick Shaffer, who said he was a Beater on the team. Three students in bright reddish-orange robes climbed out last. They were introduced as Andy Kimball, the other Beater, and two back-up players, Carlos Monteyro and Janice Higgins.

“Which house is which? I’m guessing the colours of the robes indicated the house, yeah?” I whispered to Remus as various other faculty members came out of the van, “Do you know?”

Remus shook his head, indicating he didn’t know.

The entire team had made it along the Hogwarts faculty to the team Derek had selected and they were talking, shaking hands and such. Derek and Jack Scout were laughing, nodding and apparently catching up as though they were old friends. They’d kept in touch all term, writing one another owls about the tourney and their experiences as captains during such an exciting time, careful not to leak any team secrets.

There were still people getting out of the Volkswagen bus, I was impressed by how many people had fit in there. Already there were nine students, and four members of faculty including the Principal, and now there were four burly-looking guys in black suits climbing out, forming a tight block around the door. Each of their faces were donned with dark black sunglasses that hid their eyes. One guy offered up his hand and another man in a brown suit and bright red tie climbed out. The four black-suits herded around him as he walked around the end of the van toward Dumbledore. I noticed he wore a pin on his tie: the shape of the American flag, crossed by a wand spitting red, white and blue sparks.

“The President for Magic of the United States of America, Douglas K. Rushton,” announced one of the four black-suits. The man in the centre stepped forward between the guards to take hold of Dumbledore’s hand. Dumbledore shook his hand and then did a sort of bow. “It is our great honour to welcome you to Hogwarts, Mr. President,” Dumbledore said thickly.

“And it is mine to accept your welcome,” the President answered. He looked up at the turrets and towers of the castle, a smile on his face, “I always wanted to go here when I was a child, you know. Ended up at Ilvermorny: mom and dad didn’t want me going abroad. But it appears to be everything I ever dreamed it would be and more.” He turned to Dumbledore, “When will Minister Jenkins be arriving?”

“Eugenia should be coming in later tonight. She had some urgent matters to deal with in London, I am afraid. She wished I would offer her sincerest apologies to you, of course, but it could not be helped.” Dumbledore answered.

“Very well,” answered President Rushton.

Dumbledore smiled, “It should give you a time to rest before meeting with her,” he said, “I should imagine you are quite weary from your journey and we’ve prepared a private room with a bed and hot meal, prepared specially by our house elves.”

“That sounds very good,” nodded the President, and he followed as Dumbledore turned and led the way up to the castle, through the gap among the students. The black-suited guards quickly knotted themselves around the President, though, so that we could barely see him through their limbs and torsos as they passed by, followed by the rest of the guests: the faculty talking to various members of the Hogwarts staff, and the two All Star teams, followed by the Principal, who smiled and waved to the Hogwarts students as Filch ran at his heels, rolling up the black carpet behind them.

As us students converged on the hall, eager to follow along to see anything else we could find of the visitors, Hagrid was trying to figure out how to go about moving the Volkswagen bus. Seeing as he couldn’t fit in the driver’s seat to drive it away as a Muggle would, he reached in and put the vehicle in neutral and pushed it along the little road toward the stables.

***

“So I found out about the robes,” said Remus, coming into the boys’ dormitory a couple hours after the Ilvermorny team had arrived. The other boys and I had headed up there after the excitement was over but Remus, eager to know the answer about the visitors’ colourful robes, had gone to the library to read as much as he could about the school. “They do signify which house the students are a part of. So blue is Horned Serpent, purple is Thunderbird, orange is for Wumpus and the Pukwudgies are Olive.”

“So how come the headmaster had purple on, too?” Sirius asked, sitting up.

“The Principal wore the colour because he was in Thunderbird when he was in school,” said Remus with a shrug. “It would be like Dumbledore wearing a Gryffindor scarf or a Hufflepuff badge or something.”

I sat up, “Weird. What house do you suppose Dumbledore was in when he was in school?”

All of us said a different answer, the only one not represented was, of course, Slytherin, for none of us could picture Dumbledore as a Slytherin. We looked at each other in surprise. “Why do you reckon he was in Hufflepuff?” Sirius demanded of Peter, his nose upturned.

“Because he’s kind and accepting of all the different wizards into school,” Peter said, “Isn’t that what Helga Hufflepuff did? Accepted all the students that don’t belong in other places?”

“Yeah, but Dumbledore’s not hokey like the Hufflepuffs are!” said Sirius, rolling his eyes.

Remus nodded, “He’s way too smart. He had to have been in Ravenclaw.”

“Are you calling Hufflepuffs stupid?” demanded Sirius, “My cousin was a Hufflepuff you know...the good one, I mean, Andromeda, not the crummy ones, Narcissa and Bellatrix: they’re Slytherins like they deserve.”

“Not stupid,” said Remus. “Just not as academically inclined.”

I nodded in agreement, “He’s too quirky and eccentric. You all saw Dumbledore’s office. All those books and instruments. He’s a genius, obviously! He’s got to be a Ravenclaw.”

Sirius shook his head, “He’s way too brave! He heard we were out there in the woods with Voldemort and what’s he do...he comes crashing out through the forest to save us! Remember? And blimey...haven’t you heard about how he defeated old Gellert Grindelwald back in the day? Nobody else could’ve done. But Dumbledore did it. He’s a ruddy hero. Of course he would’ve been a Gryffindor.” He looked over at James. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, probably,” James said. “Though he kind of is all of the houses, isn’t he?”

“‘Cept Slytherin,” muttered Sirius.

“Yeah, I s’pose except for Slytherin,” James shrugged.

I nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s why he ended up Headmaster.”

“Maybe,” Remus said. He put his books down on the desk and said, “Anyway, the mystery about Ilvermorny’s robes are solved, at least.”

James looked contemplative. “Which house do you reckon is which?”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked.

“Well, you know Slytherins are evil and Gryffindors are brave and Hufflepuffs are good and Ravenclaws are smart...you reckon it’s like that with the Ilvermorny houses, too?”

We all looked at Remus.

“Well don’t look at me, I don’t know that,” Remus said, “I just read until I found out about their robes. I don’t know what their house personalities are like.”

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough,” I said, shrugging.

“Or you two will, anyway,” Sirius said, glancing at the clock, “Aren’t you both supposed to be leaving for that dinner soon?”

James looked up, “Oh, blimey, yeah!” 

He and I hurried out of the room, “See you all later!” I cried.

***

I sighed, “We’re going to be a bit late.”

“I doubt Slughorn will notice.” James said with a shrug.

I made a face. “I wish it wasn’t in his office. I reckon it’s going to be just like those Slug Club parties that Remus, Lily and I get dragged to.”

Eventually we made it to Slughorn’s office. The door was open and old Big Band music was pouring out, the light warm and inviting. Delicious smells of dinner came wafting into the hall. 

I didn’t even take more than about ten steps into the room when I nearly collided with one of the Ilvermorny students, who was talking to Derek.

“Sabrina!” Derek grinned, “Just the person I was talking about. Scout, this is Sabrina Stratford, she’s one of the Gryffindor Chasers, she’s a second year. Brilliant. I would’ve played her if I could have filled the team with Gryffindors.” Derek turned me to face the other student. “Stratford, this is Jack Scout, captain of the Ilvermorny team.”

Jack Scout was tall and his shaggy blonde hair hung a bit in his eyes as he reached out a hand for mine. “Howdy, Miss Stratford,” he said, his thick accent twanging over the words. “Real pleased to meet’cha. I was just tellin’ Derek here how cool it is seein’ alla-y’all Hogwarts girls bein’ into the games ‘round here. Mostly the girls at Ilvermorny ain’t as interested as alla-y’all seem to be. Molly an’ Dawn are the ‘ceptions, really.”

I blinked up at him, dumbfounded by the strange accent, “The...er..the ‘ceptions?” I echoed, confused.

“Here’s my other Chaser,” Derek said before Jack Scout could clarify and he reached out, pulling James into our little triangle. “Potter, this is Jack Scout, captain of Ilvermorny. Scout, James Potter...he’s a Chaser, but you ought to see him play Seeker, he’s brilliant.”

James’ chest puffed up with pride and I snickered.

“Caught a gumball clear across the pitch at twilight once,” Derek continued on.

“Well, more than once really,” James said, pretending to be embarrassed by Derek going on about him. “Once that you saw.”

Jack Scout chuckled, “If that’s what you’ve got playing Chaser, I hate to see the talent your Seeker must have then, Bell.”

“Andy’s brilliant, too,” Derek said, nodding, “Bit more experience and Potter here will be first line Seeker, no doubt about it.”

I eventually decided to melt away into the crowd, as I felt a bit uncomfortable. I found myself tucked in a corner of the room, watching everyone else mill about and chat, part of me wishing I could just get back to Gryffindor Tower. I was feeling awful still from this morning, the lingering ghosts of my parents torturing my mind. I knew I should be enjoying myself, getting to know the Americans and their culture, but I just didn’t have the heart for it. So I stayed in my corner and watched.

“Here.” A cup of mead was thrust before my suddenly, at the hand of James. “I got this for you,” he wobbled it a bit as though to call my attention to it.

I hesitated, then took it. “Thanks, James.” He grinned in response.

I sniffed the mead: it was a very strong and heavy sort of smell, I’d never had any before. I looked at James, who was sipping from his own cup now, standing beside me, looking about the room calmly. Finally, I gave the cup a sip. The flavour was good at first: the taste of berries and nuts and an almost floral sort of undertone, which reminded me of summer and the earth. But then the aftertaste of alcohol hit me. The burn of it ached all the way down my throat and into my stomach. I scrunched my face up. “It burns,” I hissed.

James laughed, “It does a little. Imagine what Firewhiskey must be like? That’s known for burning.”

“Phew,” I cringed at the thought of it. “This is truly awful.” I turned around and put it down quickly on a little end table beneath a curious-looking plant that was like big orange thistles. “Thanks for the thought, anyhow.”

James laughed, and, not wanting to pretend or lie any longer about it, he put his cup down next to mine on the table. “I don’t like it much, either,” he said. “So...are you, er, enjoying the party?”

I shrugged, “It’s alright.”

“I noticed you’d been over here for a little bit,” James pointed out.

I shrugged again.

“You alright? You’ve been sort of quiet today and...I don’t know, maybe sad.” He tilted his head.

“I’m okay,” I replied.

James nodded, “Good. I’m glad you’re okay.” He shoved his hands in his robes’ pockets and rolled from the heel to the ball of his foot and back a few times, watching as everyone mingled about. After a few moments of silence, he looked over at me again. “You know, you can tell me if there’s something bothering you. I won’t tell anyone.”

I looked at him. His face was solemn as could be. He genuinely seemed concerned: it wrinkled the corners of his eyes and turned his lips just a teensy bit. I wanted to break down and tell him everything: about how worried I am for my parents and my fears towards going home for the summer (would I be killed?). But just as I started to open my mouth, there came a clinking sound that carried over the party, silencing everyone.

Slughorn was holding aloft a glass and had just hit the side of it with the blunt end of a knife gently so that the musical tinkling drew the attention of those in the room. “Dinner is served,” he called out proudly.

Sure enough, the long table that had somehow been magicked to fit into the tiny office, platters with gobs of delicious-smelling and tasting food popped up, and Slughorn waved for everyone to come and sit down. James and I took a seat next to each other. 

The dinner looked quite amazing: chicken with great big herbs and peppers and potato with garlic butter, and knotted bread that smelled of cheese and honey. I took a cup of pumpkin juice and two of the delicious rolls that I dipped in a little plate of olive oil instead of buttering them.

During dinner, talk of Quidditch and the Tournament filled the table. Bilius was telling Dawn Gleason, the pretty Ilvermorny player, about his various grand plays as a Beater for Gryffindor, bragging heartily. She smiled politely, but clearly wasn’t too impressed with Bilius’ long and slightly exaggerated track record for saving his mates in the knick of time. I saw her roll her eyes to the frizzy red-haired player, though, and thought that Dawn Gleason’s looks may be the only pretty thing about her.

When the dinner was over, James and I walked back to Gryffindor together. Derek had taken the Ilvermorny team and the Hogwarts All Star team off to some other meeting they were to have concerning the tournament. Bilius, as Head Boy, had gone off to a Prefect meeting and Frank had gone in search of some friends in the Great Hall, where the real dinner was still going on. We were alone again as we climbed the stairs, and silent until we’d reached the corridor that led to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Well, thanks for keeping me such good company tonight,” I said.

James nodded, “No problem.”

I scratched my arm a moment and my hesitation made James pause. He’d been about to tell the Fat Lady the password and go inside the dorms, but I was trying to muster the words to say something, so he stayed still, waiting for me.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked after a couple moments had passed.

“Just a bit overwhelmed, I guess,” I replied. “Do you ever get overwhelmed?”

James nodded, “Of course.”

“What do you do?” I asked, “To make it better, I mean?”

James shrugged, “I just tell myself it’s going to be alright, or I talk to Sirius or you or Mum or Dad. Bubo sometimes.” He chuckled, “I dunno, I just try not to keep it all inside. It only gets worse when you do.”

I nodded, understanding.

James stepped closer and lifted my lowered chin with his index finger so that I was looking up at him. He smiled down at me: not in his usual smirking way, but a real smile, a bit crooked at the corner, with just a couple of his teeth showing. “Sabrina. It’s going to be okay, whatever it is that’s bothering you. You’ll keep going on and you’ll get through it. I know you will. You’re like a sister to me, I care about you.”

I sighed, before quickly giving him a hug. “Thank you.” I turned to the Fat Lady. “Jabberwocky,” I announced and the Fat Lady swung open, admitting the pair of us into the common room. It was mostly empty, everyone had gone on to the Great Hall for dinner, so there were only a few fifth years, still frantically working on revisions for their O.W.L.S. 

I turned toward the stairs up to my dormitory. “G’night, Potter.”

“Night, Stratford.”


	37. 2nd, 3rd, and 4th April, 1973

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In response to SheRipper (Your comment was pretty long so I'm not gonna paste it here lol):  
> Oh my god, I didn't even notice the comparison to those animated characters until you said something. That's hilarious! And of course the "Jack Frost" character is named Jack Scout. I promise that was NOT intentional! And yea, hope I'm not disappointing when I say that James and Sabrina will never have a thing: I just think the complexity of James and Lily's relationship is already so interesting, and I want HARRY to exist, that throwing Sabrina in the mix could just confuse things. .....right? We'll see.
> 
> In response to Bolton101:   
> First of all, WOW! I can't believe you read both books in a week! I'm EXTREMELY flattered, thank you so much!
> 
> Interesting observations about Sabrina's dream animal! Fun fact: I had an early version where I had her animal be one thing, but I changed it to another. THANKFULLY I kept it vague so it wasn't that hard to make the change. I guess it just looked different in my mind while I was writing? And no, she won't be a dolphin. Can confirm: she'll be a land animal. GASP!
> 
> And in regards to the Ilvermorny team having plot relevance...I guess you'll just have to see! I will confirm one thing, though: at least one Ilvermorny character will be in future books. Of course, I'm not going to say who or when, but don't forget these characters!

2nd April, 1973

The evening edition of The Daily Prophet bore the terrible news: One hundred households of Muggles and Muggleborns were slaughtered last night. There were photographs of collapsed houses, the green glowing skull of the Dark Mark looming in the sky above them. Old family portraits of the victims. Their names in a great long list. Massacred by the Dark Lord’s Followers, the headline read. Hundreds of Muggles and Muggleborn families. When the address came from the Ministry, it was delivered on the airwaves of nearly every radio from north to south. The Minister for Magic, Eugenia Jenkins, called for peace and for everyone to stay calm, and to trust in the work of the Aurors. “This act of hate comes from a place of fear,” she said, her voice unwavering, “The Dark Lord knows we can defeat him, and he lashes out against us. We must stay strong as one community. Magical blood does not run cold.”

My eyes were wide as I listened in the Gryffindor common room. Lily and I were holding each other tight, trying to stay calm. It seemed like any day now one of us would receive the news that our parents had been slaughtered. Neither of us slept that night.

3rd April, 1973

“It’s your go, mate.” 

I had been staring into the fire, thinking, and didn’t notice that Sirius had taken his turn at chess, smashing my poorly played knight. I snapped back to focus and looked down at the board, trying to put together the meaning of the location of pieces before me. Finally, unable to, I reached down and laid my king down, “I forfeit, I’m too distracted to play well.”

Sirius raised his eyebrow, “That’s the first time I haven’t lost at Wizard’s Chess against you.”

“Yeah, well.” I shrugged. “Thank Voldemort for it.”

Peter, who had been watching the game like it was a spectator sport, leaned back into the cushions on the couch and sighed as Sirius started picking up the pieces and putting them into their bag. “Are you still worrying about your parents?” Remus asked, looking up from the History of Magic textbook on his lap.

“Yes,” I said, “I am.”

“They’ll be alright,” said James.

“You don’t know that,” I said, “I’m sure all those other Muggles thought they’d be alright, too, before they were blown to smithereens by the Dark Lord’s followers, eh?”

Silence fell over the lot of us. Peter’s nose twitched and Remus looked back to his book.

“One day, we’ll join the Resistance and we’ll take care of the Dark Lord and his followers, and there won’t be anything to worry about anymore,” Sirius said, trying to comfort me.

I frowned, “I hope the Dark Lord will have been long dead by the time we’re old enough to join the Resistance.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Sirius said, “And besides, even if the Dark Lord’s defeated, doesn’t mean there won’t be bad guys out there for us to do in.” He climbed onto the couch beside Peter and punched a throw pillow a few times so he could nestle himself into it, tossing his feet up onto Peter’s lap. “And in the meantime, at least you don’t need to worry about if your parents are the ones doing all the horrible things out there. You know they’re good people.” 

I nodded in agreement. At least I’m lucky enough to have parents who care about me.

Suddenly, James ran back towards our group. Derek Bell had pulled him aside to speak to him about something. “You lot will not believe what Derek wanted.”

I looked up in curiosity, and James continued, “He said that Andy’s mum is forcing him to come home, and he wants me to be the Seeker on the All Star team!”

4th April, 1973

The news that James would be Seeker in the tournament against Ilvermorny was received with mixed emotions by the students. Us Gryffindors were, of course, quite excited, but some of the other houses were a bit upset. “Why didn’t you ask our Seeker?” demanded the Ravenclaw captain when she approached Derek this morning at breakfast after hearing about James’ sudden inclusion. “She’s actually played as a Seeker before...for more than just a random pick-up game.” she was glowering.

“I’ve seen Potter do some amazing things,” Derek replied with a shrug, “I know what he’s capable of and that’s the sort of stuff we need in this tourney. I’m sorry, but I made my decision and I think it’s a good one.”

The Ravenclaws weren’t the only ones thinking that way. Slytherin’s captain made some remarks as well and although the Hufflepuff captain didn’t specifically say anything negative to Derek about it, she also didn’t say anything positive, either. “Just be sure and watch your back ‘til the tourney,” Derek had said lowly to James, “I doubt the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs would do much of anything, but those Slytherins...I don’t put anything past them.”

But it was really Jack Scout and the rest of the Ilvermorny team that all the students talked about. Most of the Hogwarts girls fancied Jack’s blond hair and twangy accent, which, they had learned, was a Texas accent; Jack was from a city called Austin.

Other Hogwarts girls were dreamy for his Pukwudgie Chaser, Eric Danes, who was apparently Native American and had a long black braid down his back and deep tan skin. Word was that Eric lived on a reservation in Arizona and knew loads about the ancient American wizarding legends, as his mum was a medicine woman and very skilled in the area of divination. Eric Danes’ mum was apparently famous enough in the States that when Professor Widok, the Divination teacher, heard he was among the Ilvermorny team members visiting the school, she’d asked Eric to speak to her Divination class.

The boys were, of course, still nuts about Dawn Gleason, whose flawless skin and silvery hair were a product of the sun-kissed California coast that she called home. I personally take personality over looks, but even I had a hard time not stealing a glance every time she passed by.

It seemed that everyone knew all there was to know about the Ilvermorny students: where they came from, stats about their season back home at the school, and more...and they passed information about in whispered conversations in doorways and corridors throughout the school. Anyone with further information than what was already known was held in the highest regard and became instantly popular until the new talk had dispersed its way through the entire student body.

Derek was therefore heralded as a near godlike figure as he was the only one that had so far managed to make close friends with any of the Ilvermorny students, even if it was only because he was the opposing team captain. Derek had spent a good deal of time with the Ilvermorny students, showing them about the castle as best he could and talking rules and whatnots with them. There were a lot of important things that had been set in place specifically for the tourney and the two teams spent absolute eons in talks about them...which slightly annoyed me because now James hardly spent any time with us.

“Meg Johnson is from a place called Seattle,” James told us today. He said that he was paired off with her at the last tourney meeting to get to know her, seeing as she was the Ilvermorny Seeker. “We were talking some about what it’s like in America and it sounds a bit rough actually.”

“Rough? In America?” Sirius sounded surprised. We were about halfway across the stone bridge and looking over the side into the depths of the crags, hanging around between classes, waiting for Remus and Peter, who had gone back to the Gryffindor Tower to fetch a book Peter had forgotten. Sirius was sitting on one of the sills of the great stone cut outs, his back to the crags below, which made me a bit nervous. One good wind and Sirius would go over the edge, but he seemed comfortable enough with it, so I didn’t say anything. “What’s rough about it?”

“Well, they’re not very Muggle-friendly over there, I guess,” James answered, “Meg called it backwards. She said that most of the people don’t believe Muggles and wizards should mingle at all, and shouldn’t interfere with lives, like not even to save them. They stay separated at all times.”

“That’s what the Statute of Secrecy’s about, though, isn’t it?” I asked.

“No it’s more extreme than all that,” James said, “They don’t even have half-bloods at Ilvermorny, Meg said. They’re all purebloods. American wizards that aren’t purebloods never know they’re magical at all because they don’t want to mix with Muggles.”

My eyes widened, “It’s like Voldemort’s paradise, then.”

“Well, no,” James said, “Not exactly. They’re not violent toward Muggles, they just don’t interact with them at all. It’s against the law. She called the Muggles ‘no-majs’, too.”

“No-majs?” I crinkled my nose, “What a stupid-sounding word.”

James shrugged, “Muggle’s pretty strange of a word, too, if you think about it.” He paused, “Then again, if you think of it, most words are pretty strange. Language in general is strange. Life is strange.” James’ eyes went all distant as he stared off over the grounds.

“Woah, hold on, slow down there, you’re getting far too philosophical far too quickly for this time of day,” Sirius said, holding up his hand to stop James. I snickered as James grinned at us. “So wait,” Sirius continued, “Say there was a Muggle being attacked by, I dunno, a mugger or something, and an American wizard sees it. They just...let the mugger have a go?”

“Apparently,” James answered.

“Well that’s terrible!” I exclaimed, “What’s the point of being magical if we can’t help people that need it?”

Sirius nodded in agreement, “Isn’t that the moral of the story of the Hopping Pot?”

“Yeah,” James replied. When I tilted my head in confusion, he explained, “It’s a story wizards read as children. The Hopping Pot attacks a healer’s son because he wouldn’t help the Muggles. But I s’pose Beedle the Bard isn’t as popular in the States. They probably have some other literature there.”

“But Beedle the Bard is a classic!” Sirius exclaimed.

James shrugged. “Dunno what to tell you. I didn’t ask her if she had read it. You’re the one who brought up Beedle the Bard. She was telling me this about the wizards and the no-majs because I’d mentioned my dad and she said most of the American wizards wouldn’t have dreamed of helping Mr. Parish from the fire, or of casting protective spells over the houses of Muggle families, like the Resistance has done. My dad would’ve been arrested and sent to their wizarding prison for having contact with the No-Maj. She said she wasn’t one that thinks that way, but her views are pretty rare. She said Thunderbirds tend to be more free-thinking than the other houses. She used the word liberals.” 

“Liberals?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Apparently it’s something to do with politics.”

I saw Remus and Peter coming across the threshold of the bridge. “Did she say what the other houses were like?”

James shook his head, “Not really.”

“Well it sounds like Thunderbirds are alright, at least,” Sirius said, jumping down off the window.

Remus and Peter approached us. Peter was out of breath and carrying his book, puffing as they walked up. “Sorry that took so long,” Remus apologised as the three of us fell into stride beside the mas we walked on, headed for the greenhouses. “Peter couldn’t find his book.”

Peter turned quite red.

James smirked and elbowed Peter. “You had it in your book bag, didn’t you?” Peter mumbled something incoherent and sped up ahead of us, scurrying as fast he could down the steps and out the door to the courtyard. We all laughed as he went, speeding off through the puddles formed by earlier rain showers. “I swear he’d lose his head if it wasn’t screwed on,” I snickered.

“He’d look a good deal more attractive if he did lose it,” Sirius joked.


End file.
